


One Easy Answer

by MalecCrazedAuthor



Series: One Easy Answer [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Courtship, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Politics, Post-Episode: s02e10 By The Light Of Dawn, Praise Kink if you squint, Slow Burn, fluff with a few feels along the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-28 02:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10821942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalecCrazedAuthor/pseuds/MalecCrazedAuthor
Summary: Magnus warned Alec he wouldn’t ask again.And he didn’t.Alec called off his wedding, but the next day walked in on Magnus with Camille and hasn’t spoken to Magnus since.Now, three months after Valentine massacred dozens of Downworlders with the Soul Sword, relations between the Shadowhunters and the Downworld are growing increasingly turbulent as the Downworld blames Jace for activating the sword.It’s up to Alec, as Head of the New York Institute, to forge a peace that could save thousands of Downworlder and Shadowhunter lives—even if it means re-evaluating everything he once thought mattered.If you want this in .mobi or .epub format with tidier formatting than you can get here from AO3, you can download the files at https://drive.google.com/open?id=12UK5Ib6LJWmq1If48SvGEgH2HWKRKcy6





	1. A Clandestine Summit

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [One Easy Answer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11517153) by [Jumik89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jumik89/pseuds/Jumik89)



> Cover Art by Serenity Hope: [beyondthehunt.tumblr.com](http://beyondthehunt.tumblr.com)
> 
> Beta reading by [RoseGlass](http://roseglass.tumbr.com) and Bonibaru ([on tumblr](http://bonibaru.tumblr.com) and [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bonibaru/pseuds/bonibaru))
> 
> This story takes place roughly 2-3 months after the events of episode 2x10. It will not be taking into account any events of season 2b, because I hope to have it completed before 2b ever airs.
> 
> (ETA: The Kaelie/Shadowhunter murder/Downworlder racial profiling plot of 2x13 may be considered to be part of the backstory for this fic. It took place during that 2-3 month gap after 2x10 and serves as a catalyst for the events herein.)
> 
> It is fully canon-compliant up until Alec’s wedding in episode 1x12, and then very closely canon-compliant up through episode 2x10.
> 
> The major difference is that Magnus never shows up at Alec’s wedding in 1x12, thus the events of season two happen without the relationship between Alec and Magnus influencing the direction of things, creating deviations both major and minor. This is largely seen in discussion of events taking place between 2x08 and 2x10.
> 
> For example: Magnus’s spellbook is still stolen in 2x08, but the theft in no way involves Alec, or Max’s rune ceremony. Thus, the Lightwood family never comes under the influence of Iris Rouse’s spell that night, and a great deal of the conflict they end up dealing with in that episode (such as Maryse and Alec quasi-reconciling and Alec finding out about his father’s infidelity) is never resolved.
> 
> Magnus never tells Alec about his suspicions regarding Izzy and yin fen in 2x09, so Alec never bursts into the Hotel Dumort to confront Izzy and Raphael. As a result, their “date” continues uninterrupted. This leads to consequences that result in them being absent from everything that happens in the Institute in 2x10. (Raphael also doesn’t have that confrontation acting as a catalyst for revealing whatever feelings he has for Izzy.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus hosts an emergency summit between the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute and the Downworld leaders.

“What is he doing here?” Meliorn demanded as Jace followed Alec through the door of Magnus’s loft.

“The terms for the summit were that each representative was permitted to bring a lieutenant,” Alec said, trying not to sound too stiff or ready for an argument, though Meliorn’s intention to needle him from the outset was transparent. “That was _your_ stipulation, Meliorn.”

"It was, but to bring the Shadowhunter who betrayed us to treaty talks you called yourself, one might assume you intend to insult all of us from the beginning." Meliorn planted his hands on the ornately carved table and rose. Beside him, a Seelie woman stood as well. "If that's how it will be, I see no point to attending this conference at all."

“Jace didn’t betray us,” Luke said, holding up a hand. Beside him, Maia looked like she wanted to argue that claim, but she maintained a grudging silence.

“How do you know?” Meliorn demanded. “You were outside with me, fending off Circle members while our people were dying in the Institute. We have only Jace Wayland’s word that he did not intentionally activate the Soul Sword at Valentine’s behest.”

“And mine.” Magnus rose from his seat at the end of the table, drawing Alec’s gaze to the exact person he’d been trying to avoid noticing. A muddled mess of confusion and betrayal and gratitude hit him square in the chest, the way it always did when he and Magnus failed to avoid each other’s presence. He had to push that aside to make his eyes move on, which took far more willpower than Alec would have liked.

“I was there when Jace received the misinformation intended to make him think he was destroying the sword instead of activating it,” Magnus continued. “He was prepared to die that night to save all of us. He’s not to blame that Valentine misled him. If we’re going to make any progress in this meeting, let’s start out by giving one another the benefit of the doubt, shall we?”

Beside Magnus, Dorothea Rollins remained seated with her hands folded before her, her eyes downcast. "What happened that night is my fault if it's anyone's," she murmured. "I should have known something was off when Valentine dropped the way to thwart his plans in my lap and then left me there. But I was ill and unable to think clearly, so I didn't see it." Her hands rubbed the polished surface of the table restlessly for a moment, before she straightened her shoulders and looked them all in the eye, one by one. "Which is why I want to start this summit by offering to surrender myself to the Seelies—or the werewolves or vampires, if necessary—to face whatever charges they deem necessary to hold someone accountable for the massacre."

“Dot, that’s not—” Magnus started sharply, then softened his tone, a deep frown drawing his brows together. “This isn’t what we _discussed_.”

“No, it isn’t.” Dot met his eyes, and they seemed to be having a silent conversation as they stared at each other. “Our people are dying, Magnus. At this rate, Valentine’s followers won’t need to try to kill us. We’re doing it ourselves, with every skirmish between Shadowhunters and Downworlders.”

She rose from her chair, shaking visibly. Magnus reached down to try to help her, but she waved him off. "The Clave gets more repressive every time the Seelies ambush a Shadowhunter—" she stared Meliorn down, then moved on to Maia "—or the werewolves start a bar fight at the Hunter's Moon. And that makes the Downworld even more resentful. Unless we all want to end up with tracking chips in our necks—or _worse_ —something has to break the cycle.”

Her chin lifted another notch. “I’m ill, thanks to Valentine’s experiments, and I’m not getting better. If someone has to fall on their sword to move the peace process along, it might as well be me.”

“Uh, hello?” Beside Raphael, Simon waved his hand. “In case anyone forgot, I was right there. You know, _in the room_. I _saw_ what happened. Jace was trying to destroy the sword. If you want someone to testify to that, fine. I’ll do it.”

Meliorn’s eyes slid to Raphael. “Is this true?”

Raphael shifted in his chair, his jaw flexing. “I wasn’t there that night. But as Simon says, he was, so we _do_ have an eyewitness.”

Meliorn stared at them all for a long moment, then took his seat. “Very well. For the moment, I will accept the testimony of the vampire and the warlocks that Jace Wayland did not intend to deceive us. _Provisionally_ , pending the outcome of these talks.” He met Alec’s eyes. “So let us begin. What does the Clave want with us, Shadowhunter? Why have you called us here?”

Alec didn’t kid himself that Raphael couldn’t hear his rapid heartbeat or that Luke couldn’t smell his fear. Nonetheless, he took slow, deliberate breaths to try to slow his racing pulse. He returned Meliorn’s gaze steadily and took his position at the far end of the table from Magnus and Dot, though he didn’t sit. Not yet.

“I want to first thank you all for coming, and Magnus for hosting. I know you’re giving me the benefit of the doubt just by showing up, and I appreciate it.” He gave a slight bow, a courtesy few, if any, Downworlders would expect to see from a Shadowhunter. For so many years, he’d been taught to approach negotiating with Downworlders from a position of inherent superiority. He pushed all that training aside, approaching them as humbly as he could manage.

"I also want you to know that I'm here acting without the knowledge or permission of the Clave. Their position on the recent hostilities is zero tolerance, and I've been ordered to convey those instructions to the Institute. I'm supposed to be implanting you all with tracking chips right now. If they find out I've called this summit, I could be charged with treason and deruned." Luke and Magnus both twitched at that, and Simon looked downright alarmed. "I have as much or more to lose than any of you. But Ms. Rollins is correct. Something needs to break this cycle or more people—Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike—are going to die."

He paused to let that sink in. He’d been practicing these opening remarks for days, fully aware that he had only one chance to sell this traitorous plan, and of what he risked with it.

“This goes beyond us, beyond New York. The conflict is spreading to other cities and other Institutes. The more Downworlder aggression against Shadowhunters that gets reported, the more the Shadowhunters are going to start to believe that maybe Valentine has the right idea. Isn’t that what happened with the first Circle uprising?” He glanced very briefly at Luke and Magnus for confirmation, and they both nodded tightly. “He provoked Downworlders and then convinced the Clave that the Downworlders were actually the aggressors. None of us wants to see history repeat itself. So I’m here to suggest—no, to _entreat_ —that we work together to find a way to pull this situation back from the brink of a war none of us will win.”

Silence followed his speech and Alec finally took his seat, accepting Jace's soft pat on his back. He ventured a glance at each of the people assembled and was glad to see they all appeared thoughtful. They were at least mulling his words over, for better or worse.

“Why doesn’t the Clave hand over Valentine for execution the way we’ve asked?” Maia demanded. “They consider the life of a traitor more important than our laws.”

“They don’t hand him over because as far as they’re concerned, even the most treacherous Shadowhunter is too good to die at the hands of Downworlders,” said Meliorn’s lieutenant, whose name Alec hadn’t gotten.

Raphael tapped his pen on the table and leaned back in his chair. “Maia and Ghinea raise valid points. Your speech was pretty, Shadowhunter, but what are you going to offer to back it up? Or are you proposing we just meekly return to the way things have always been under the Accords?” he asked, giving Alec a challenging look.

"Forbidden entrance to Idris except in minimal, controlled numbers, as though we might pollute the Shadowhunter homeland?" Ghinea sneered. "Having the Law dictated to us by the Clave? Sneered at by the Shadowhunters when we seek redress for injustices done to us? The Circle uprising happened because the Clave regarded Valentine's lies as more credible than the Downworlders' truth, and nothing has changed in the decades since."

Maia nodded firmly. “Last week I was arrested for something I didn’t even do, just because I was a werewolf walking in the wrong place at the wrong time. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do to defend myself. If Raphael, Meliorn, and your sister hadn’t found out about Kaelie, I would be imprisoned or even dead by now. I don’t think any of us are interested in returning to a status quo that elevates Shadowhunters to the position of judge, jury, and executioner for all of us, especially when we have no recourse.”

“At the same time, we _all_ have to be held accountable, and the mundanes protected," Luke said calmly. He gave Raphael and Magnus a steady look in turn. "To use an example, Camille should have been stopped decades earlier than she was. Since I took over the Brooklyn pack I've been working on dealing with rogue werewolves, but we've fallen short there in the past, too. The Clave's failing is that they don't uphold the Accords evenly and justly. The Covenant and the Accords themselves are sound in principle. The application just needs some work. So how we gonna make that happen?"

* * *

It still hurt a little. Even after all that had passed, Magnus couldn’t help the pang of bittersweet pride in Alec while he addressed the gathered Downworlders so earnestly. It had always astonished him that this unassuming, guileless Shadowhunter was the scion of one of the most self-important Nephilim dynasties Magnus had ever encountered. And Alec’s penchant for doing the unexpected was present in full force today.

At Alec’s gesture, Jace pulled a stack of documents from the portfolio they’d brought, and began passing copies around. Alec had clearly instructed his cocky brother to be as solemn as Alec himself was today. Or perhaps it was guilt that had taught Jace humility. He hadn’t spoken a word in his own defense when Meliorn had accused him of being responsible for the massacre at the Institute.

Alec watched them peruse the documents with a steady solemnity. He seemed to have matured years in the few months since Magnus had last spoken with him.

“These are drafts of a treaty,” he explained. “And before you ask, _yes_ , it is negotiable. I put it together just to give us a starting point to work from, not to dictate terms. To summarize, it would establish what we’ve been calling the Brooklyn Shadow-World Council. It would be a committee of fifteen representatives, three from each faction: Shadowhunters, warlocks, vampires, werewolves, and the Fair Folk. Everyone on the committee will have an equal vote. How each faction chooses its representatives is their own internal affair, but three representatives each would allow for differing voices within the factions to be heard, instead of one representative speaking for all their people.”

“To what purpose?” Meliorn asked, though he barely glanced at the papers he’d been handed.

“The panel will serve to negotiate contentious issues between races and act as a tribunal when the Accords have been breached, if a faction doesn’t appear to be policing their own people to the satisfaction of the others,” Jace answered. “That means, though, that each faction is going to be held accountable for their people. Valentine is a monster, absolutely, but I _saw_ those vamp dens of Camille's, and he wasn't wrong about those. The vampires should have stepped in long before it got to that point, and when that didn't happen, the Clave should have acted. Am I wrong?"

Raphael gritted his teeth for a moment, then shook his head. "No, you're not wrong. As leader of my clan, I should have been aware of Camille's activities and dealt with them sooner. That said, it was _Shadowhunter_ interference in Camille’s imprisonment that unleashed her to commit those acts.” Simon squirmed under Raphael’s sideways glance. “The blood of the mundanes killed in those dens is on _your_ people’s hands, not mine. You can’t tell us we’re responsible for policing our own and then sidestep our laws the moment you find them inconvenient. Which makes me wonder why I should trust that we won’t be betrayed by our _allies_ under this proposed plan the way we were the last time we agreed to an alliance.”

“You’re right,” Alec took a slow breath, and Magnus could practically see him shuffling mental note cards. “Izzy and Clary should have been reprimanded, and if they were to do the same thing under this treaty, they would either have to be dealt with internally at the Institute, or they would be called before the tribunal. The goal here is to maintain the framework of the Accords, and the autonomy of _all_ our people, while eliminating the uneven and sometimes negligent way the Law has been administered by the Clave. That means greater accountability for all of us, including Shadowhunters.”

Luke whistled under his breath, drumming his fingers on his copy of the treaty. “Alec—man, you weren’t kidding about the way the Clave is gonna react to this. You’ll be lucky if all they do is derune you.”

Alec closed his eyes for a moment, then licked his lips and shrugged. “I suppose that depends on how successful we are. If this works, then all we’ve done is exactly what we’re supposed to be doing: upholding and enforcing the Law. We’ll have resolved the Downworlder uprisings with no further bloodshed. The Clave has no reason to interfere with any of this and enforce their tracking chip order unless we fail to establish a lasting peace. As far as they need to be concerned, we’re not challenging their authority or trying to overthrow them. We’re just—implementing a local solution to a local problem.”

“And if the Clave doesn’t see it that way?” Magnus asked, staring until Alec gave up avoiding his gaze and met it full-on.

“Then we’re going to have a war on our hands and whether or not I’m deruned will be the least of everyone’s problems,” he replied grimly.

Meliorn leaned forward, folding his hands on the table before him. “What I’m hearing here is that no matter what we agree to, the Clave can sweep in and declare it null and void,” he pointed out. “In which case, we’ve accomplished nothing and this treaty is merely…political theater. It’s an entertaining diversion, but ultimately meaningless. In the end, the Clave still dictates to whom the Law applies and when. What reassurance can you offer that if it comes to a choice between the peace brokered by this ‘Brooklyn Shadow-World Council’ and the prejudice of the Clave, you’ll choose your allies?”

Alec clenched his hands, then turned them palm-up on the table. The body language wasn’t lost on Magnus, nor, he thought, on any of the others in the room. Hands visible. Open. Unthreatening. Nothing concealed. Offering peace. “If the Clave attempts to disrupt the operations of the Council, I—and whichever Shadowhunters agree to follow me—will renounce our allegiance to the Clave and form our own Institute, which will continue to honor the alliance.”

Magnus felt the pronouncement like a boulder dropped into his gut. If the Clave got wind of it, they'd consider it far beyond treason. Imprisonment, deruning, torture—Magnus wasn't sure any of those would encompass the consequences Alec could face for the declaration he'd just made, and anyone who followed him would meet the same fate.

"Let me be clear," Alec continued, giving Meliorn and Raphael a stern look. "If it comes to that, we _will not_ instigate or support any act of unprovoked aggression against the Clave. But we will defend ourselves _and_ our allies. That only applies, though, if the Clave hasn’t been provoked by a breach of the Accords. So as long as your people toe the line, the Clave should have no reason to attack you. If they do anyway? Well, then they’re the ones in violation of the Accords, and we’ll stand by our treaty and support you.”

They all fell silent again, mulling over Alec’s words. It was Jace who spoke next, his voice almost pleading. “You have to see that he’s putting everything on the line for you. For all of us. To save lives. What more can he do to convince you?”

“Yes, this selfless offer is quite moving,” Meliorn drawled. “But it wasn’t long ago that Alec Lightwood was personally escorting me to the City of Bones to be tortured and possibly killed by the Silent Brothers, at the Clave’s behest. So I have to wonder, why the change of heart? When did you acquire this sudden concern for saving Downworlder lives?”

The bitterly tired twist of Alec’s mouth made something in Magnus’s chest ache. “Meliorn, in all your centuries, can you honestly say you haven’t realized you were wrong-headed about something and tried to make it right?”

Magnus wanted to blast the smirk off Meliorn's lovely face as he replied, "Certainly. But as Raphael said before, these are merely pretty words without something more to back them up. Under the Covenant and the Accords, we've been treated like second-class citizens by the Clave. What reassurance can you offer that it won't be the same under your proposed Council? You yourself are the descendant of people who were once a part of Valentine Morgenstern's Circle. Your parents conducted unjust and illegal raids against Downworlders, acts that the Clave subsequently rationalized and ignored. Prejudice that deep is passed down in the mother's milk. How do we know you'll truly treat us as equals and deal with us as though our lives have just as much value as yours?"

“You’re angling for something, Meliorn,” Luke snapped. “Quit dancing around it and get to the point.”

“Papers—even those signed with blood—are a shallow commitment, and are easily sidestepped or interpreted in self-serving ways. And they say nothing of the mindset of the people signing them. My queen wants to see Downworlders standing beside the Nephilim as _true_ equals before she’ll consider any treaty.”

A tingle of unease ran up Magnus’s spine and tightened his scalp. Meliorn was laying a trap. Luke could sense it, too, leaning forward in his chair.

“Standing beside us on the Council isn’t equal enough?” Alec asked. “It’s more than the Clave has ever offered you.”

“It’s also untested. The reality might fall short of the proposal.” Meliorn arched a challenging eyebrow at Alec. “If a Shadowhunter of notable rank within your administration at the Institute were to wed a Downworlder, uniting them as kin, it would make a powerful statement about your regard for Downworlders. Perhaps even enough to persuade my queen to take a look at your treaty.”

“Marriage? You’re not serious.” Jace scoffed. “In case you haven’t noticed, part of the point here is to drag Shadowhunter society into the 21st century.”

“If you wish to demonstrate your progressive regard for us, perhaps you shouldn’t be so casually dismissive of our cultural values.” Meliorn stared Jace down. “Intermarriage is a well-established tradition for cementing alliances. Even Shadowhunters resort to it when their family credibility is in question, do they not?” he continued, looking directly at Alec. Magnus clenched his fist on a flicker of angry magic.

Luke gave a disgusted sigh. “Don’t be an ass, Meliorn.”

“The Children of the Moon are young. Mortal. They do not keep to old ways,” Meliorn continued implacably. “But many of the Seelies, vampires, and warlocks are have been alive since a time when such alliances were commonly forged. They would not consider it passé in the slightest. It’s a perfectly valid bargaining tool.”

Jace snorted. “Oh, I get it. Look, if this is your attempt to seal the deal with Izzy, I hate to break it to you, but I think she’s moved on.”

Raphael suddenly sat up a little straighter, drawing Magnus’s eyes, but he said nothing.

"And on, and on again," Meliorn smirked. "Even if we were still seeing each other, it would be amusing to see how many of your bones Isabelle would break for suggesting she'd be amenable to settling down. But no, I'm not at liberty to offer myself as a potential candidate. None of our people would willingly wed the Shadowhunter who caused so many of our deaths, which rules out you, Jace Wayland, and rumor has it Clary Fairchild is likewise unavailable. Which leaves your Head of the Institute as the only Shadowhunter with the clout to make the sort of gesture that might sway my queen. If you'd like, I could submit a list of eligible Seelie maidens who would be happy to help shoulder the burden of leading the New York Institute."

“For someone so well informed, your gossip is a little out of date, Meliorn,” Alec gritted. “Or you’d know _maidens_ aren’t exactly my thing.”

Magnus blinked in surprise. Not long ago, Alec would never have made such a bald pronouncement. The turmoil of recent events had apparently changed more than just the political landscape.

Alec’s eyes flicked to him for just the smallest fraction of a second, but it was enough to take Magnus back to that moment months ago when he looked up from Camille’s kiss to see Alec standing there, looking like he’d been gutted. Magnus hadn’t learned until several hours later that Alec had called off his own wedding the night before. By then it had been too late to take back that instant in Camille’s arms.

He snapped back to the present as Meliorn waved Alec’s words off with a negligent flick of his hand. “The Fair Folk do not tend not to concern ourselves with such trivialities as the gender of a potential mate.”

“And what about the species?” Luke challenged. “Would your queen still see it as a statement about Downworlders equality if Alec or one of his people married a werewolf or vampire? Or is this just an attempt to get one of your own people into the Institute?”

“I don’t foresee any of my people being all that interested in marrying a Shadowhunter,” Raphael said calmly. “Still, that is an excellent question.”

Meliorn frowned thoughtfully. “Very well. As long as there is compelling evidence that Alec Lightwood sees us all—regardless of species—as equal enough to wed, my queen will be sufficiently satisfied to give the treaty her consideration. I am authorized to inform you that until negotiations are completed or break down entirely, the Seelies will keep to their own realms and will aid neither side of the conflict between the Shadowhunters and the other Downworlders. However, attempts to delay or draw out these negotiations indefinitely may result in a resumption of hostilities. Beyond that, I can offer you nothing.”

When Meliorn rose, they all did. He swept out of the room with his lieutenant a step behind him, clearly done with them all.

Which left little for the rest of them to say.

Raphael meticulously straightened the papers Jace had handed him and stacked them with the notes he’d been taking. He handed the pile to Simon, who nearly dropped them trying to tuck them into a portfolio. “I’ll go over your proposed treaty and discuss it with the leaders of the other clans,” he told Alec. “I’ll be in touch if we have any amendments we wish to make. _Or_ if we vote to reject the proposal entirely.”

Alec gave a slight bow of his head. “Thank you, Raphael. I appreciate you taking the time to attend and consider it.”

Luke clapped Alec on the shoulder as he made his way toward the door after Raphael and Simon departed. “It’s a good start, Alec. It just may take time.”

“Assuming we can trust a word of it,” Maia muttered, giving Jace a venomous side-eye that provoked an uncharacteristic flinch. Jace opened his mouth but nothing came out, and after a moment, Maia shook her head in disgust and stomped out the door.

"Don't give up yet," Luke said with a sigh and followed her.

Dot excused herself to go get some rest and portaled back to her own lair, and Magnus busied himself getting a drink while over by the door, Alec and Jace had a short conversation with their eyes. Jace departed without a word, leaving them alone for only the second time since Magnus had tried to talk Alec out of going through with his wedding—though Magnus wasn't sure he could even really count those hours he'd spent at an unconscious Alec's bedside, trying to keep him alive.

For months he’d imagined what he would say if he just had a chance to talk to Alec, to explain. But now, watching Alec hovering uncertainly near the door?

Magnus couldn’t find a single word to say.


	2. A Slippery Predicament

“You need to be careful with Meliorn,” Magnus said after an agonizing silence, his arms folded over his chest. “Seelies have a reputation as slippery negotiators for a reason.”

“I know.” Alec closed his eyes and blew out a long breath. “I didn’t push back enough. Considering how justifiable their outrage over the massacre is, I thought it would be better to try for a conciliatory tone.”

Magnus tilted his head in that, _Yes, but…_ shrug he sometimes did, and it hurt to realize how much Alec had missed those graceful gestures. "There's conciliatory, and then there's handing the Seelies the keys to the Institute. He's got you offering everything, and he's giving you exactly nothing."

“Unless I marry,” Alec huffed in disgust.

“No, not even then. He was jerking you around, Alec." Magnus stepped forward, then stopped short, as though catching himself before he came any closer. He dropped his hands to his sides and frowned. "Meliorn didn't agree to the treaty on the condition that you marry a Downworlder. He said that the queen would ‘consider’ the treaty if you _demonstrate an equal regard_ for Downworlders. He cleverly suggested marriage, but that was just to give you a notion to chase after, so you wouldn't notice what he _wasn’t_ saying. Even if you did marry, the Seelies might find some justification for claiming you see Downworlders as inferior and that you feel you’ve married beneath yourself. And even if that doesn’t happen, they can ‘consider’ the treaty as promised and then reject it. _That’s_ why you need to be careful. He'll lead you to believe he's saying what you want to hear when he's really saying nothing at all. You could give them everything they demand, and they'll still find a way to wriggle out of signing the treaty if they don't want to sign it.”

Alec's eyes began to throb, and he pressed his fingers to them, willing the headache that had been lingering behind them for months to abate.

“Without the Seelies, the Council will never work,” he said, dropping his hands from his face. “Their numbers are too great, and their warriors are too powerful and too well trained. They're pissed off about the massacre, and if the Clave refuses to give them Valentine's blood, they'll take ours instead. Especially Jace's. I have to offer them _something_.”

“You can’t offer what they’re demanding, Alexander. Not truly.”

Alec frowned at the absolute surety in Magnus’s voice. “Why not?”

Magnus made a derisive sound, which was weird since Magnus of all people should know better. He closed his eyes as if pained, then offered Alec the most hollow smile Alec had ever seen. “I need some air and some alcohol for this discussion,” he muttered. “Drink?”

“God, yes,” Alec groaned. Not because he wanted the alcohol, but because this promised to be an excruciating conversation.

Magnus blinked. “I’ve never seen you so eager for a cocktail before.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a rough few months,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead again. “I’d drink hemlock right now for a few minutes of peace and quiet.”

Magnus smiled sadly and gestured at the spiral, wrought-iron staircase. Alec preceded him up to a surprisingly cozy rooftop garden.

“Have a seat, please,” Magnus invited. “I’ll pretend I didn’t just hear you suggest my excellent liquor is only slightly preferable to poison.”

Alec’s cheeks grew hot as he sank into a comfortably cushioned patio chair. “Sorry. I’m just…not a big drinker. Lack of opportunity, I guess. I-I never really did the social stuff that tended to involve drinking. Mostly I was studying or handling paperwork while Jace and Izzy were on the other side of the room doing shots from the bottle of tequila they slipped past our parents. I never acquired the taste for it.”

Magnus’s smile grew brighter and more genuine. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Something sweet, then?” He snapped his fingers and a steaming mug appeared on the table at Alec’s elbow.

“What’s this?” he asked with a cautious chuckle at the sight of a frothy dab of whipped cream melting on the surface.

“Hot cocoa with creme de menthe. Soothing and delicious. I don’t tend to favor it myself, but my friend Catarina swears by it as her go-to comfort drink.”

Alec took a sip and sighed happily. The cocoa was rich and creamy, the mint tingled on his tongue, and the rasp of alcohol was faint enough not to offend his taste buds. "She's right. It’s really good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I won’t tell anyone the Head of the New York Institute likes to drink cocoa to relax if you won’t.” Magnus stared at him for a moment until Alec self-consciously licked his lips, catching the stray bit of whipped cream stuck there. He cleared his throat and looked away, awkward silence oozing into the space between them.

Magnus poured himself a glass of something amber that would probably scorch Alec’s esophagus if he tried to drink it, then dropped gracefully onto a chaise and curled his legs up beside him.

“Look, Alec. Here’s what I’m trying to say: you’re a Shadowhunter through and through. You’re deeply invested in the traditions of your culture. And as long as you’re trying to shed the bigoted baggage that comes with that package there’s _nothing_ wrong with that.” Magnus took a deep sip of his drink, as though bracing himself, then sighed. “But that traditionalism will probably prevent you from ever being able to make the sort of marriage Meliorn is suggesting would appease the Seelie queen.”

Alec wrapped his hands around his mug, savoring the almost-too-hot warmth suffusing his fingers. This early in the spring, the rooftop garden was chilly, especially at night, and Magnus’s words weren’t helping ward off the cold. “How so?”

Magnus gave his glass a rueful look. “Unless you marry wearing gold in a Shadowhunter ceremony, complete with a Wedded Union rune—which no Downworlder can ever receive—you’ll probably never feel like it’s a real marriage. An _equal_ marriage. And the Seelies will pick up on that and use it to claim their demand that you demonstrate your egalitarian regard for Downworlders is unsatisfied.”

Alec buried himself in his mug for a moment, taking time to consider his response. So many months had passed since Magnus had confronted him about his upcoming marriage to Lydia, and here they were, having another discussion on the subject of his marital prospects. The irony would bowl him over if he had the energy to appreciate it.

“That doesn’t follow,” he finally said. “Just because the marriage would be different doesn’t mean it would be less valid. Shadowhunters have married Downworlders before. It’s not forbidden.”

Magnus’s lips twisted unpleasantly. “Yes, and we all know how Shadowhunter society regards those marriages, don’t we? Luke used to actually _be_ a Shadowhunter. They may not have been married, but he stayed by Jocelyn’s side for nearly twenty years. Yet he was barred from attending her Rite of Mourning, or comforting the young woman he helped raise.”

Alec ducked his head, cringing at the mention of Jocelyn. “Maybe that’s the point,” he murmured. “Downworlders would regard it as a valid marriage, and if I’m going to treat them as equals, _see_ them as equals, then their opinion on the marriage would need to matter as much or more to me than the Clave’s.”

Magnus heaved a put-out sigh. His rings clinked against his glass as he took another long drink. “Meliorn is laying a trap for you,” he insisted. “However unintentional it was, your _parabatai_ is responsible for that massacre, and you’re standing in the way of them tearing Jace apart for that. If you marry a Downworlder—and a male Downworlder at that—you’ll lose Clave credibility and support, particularly once they learn you’re talking treason. Which they _will_ ; the Seelies will see to that. And if you get demoted or deruned or imprisoned, the path to Jace is open.”

“ _Hell_.” Alec drained his cocoa, clenching his hands tightly around the empty mug to keep from flinging it down in frustration. “Magnus—thanks to the Inquisitor’s damn stunt with the tracking chips, the Downworlders are ready for open war, and the Institute is undermanned for even just normal demon activity in a city the size of New York. My parents have barely spoken to me since I called off my wedding and told them exactly why, my sister is barely speaking to anyone, I still don’t know what to say to Clary since I murdered her mom, and Jace is _destroying_ himself with guilt over his part in the massacre. But the Clave doesn’t care; they didn’t make me Head of the Institute as a vote of confidence; they put me at the helm of a sinking ship so they’d have a scapegoat, one whose family name is already under suspicion. I’m running out of options. I need just _one thing_ to have an easy answer. Just one.”

* * *

Sadly, Magnus’s glass did not, in fact, contain all the secrets of the universe. He stared into it for an unreasonably long time, however, waiting for them to reveal themselves. He stared so long that he heard the soft click of Alec’s mug being placed on the patio table and the creak of Alec’s chair and leather jacket as he rose.

“I should be getting back to the Institute,” he said, reluctance heavy in his voice. Magnus could hardly blame him. Of all the many things they still needed to discuss, Alec considering another marriage of convenience hadn't even been on the radar. Yet here they were, and they hadn't even touched upon the rest. At this rate, it was possible they never would.

Magnus clenched his hands around his glass so tightly his rings bit into his fingers.

“Alexander.”

Alec stopped in the doorway leading to the stairs. It took visible effort for him to straighten his shoulders. His head tipped back, a subtle _what now?_ in every shift of his posture. “Yeah?”

“If you’re giving this serious consideration, you absolutely cannot accept any of the candidates the Seelies will offer you.”

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out," he said with a humorless huff of laughter. "But thanks for the warning."

“I’m not finished. The Seelies can be subtle and duplicitous, yes, but that’s not what I’m concerned about.” Magnus unfolded from his chaise to pace the garden as Alec turned fully to face him. “You need someone powerful. Someone with a reputation that will command at least a modicum of respect from the Clave. Someone with a history of friendships with—and invaluable services rendered to—Shadowhunters. The Seelies will never offer you a prospect who could fulfill those requirements. As Raphael said, the vampires aren’t interested, and even if they weren’t too modern for it all, the werewolves are resentful about the massacre. Luke is barely holding them in check. There’s no way any of them would volunteer.”

Alec blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Magnus could practically see the dots beginning to connect in his head. “You’re saying I need a warlock,” he ventured carefully.

Magnus forced himself to stop and turned to face Alec, clasping his hands in front of him. His upper lip felt cool with sweat, his heart pounded too hard. The memory of his last rejection by Alec was still too fresh, even so many months later. He’d sworn he wouldn’t ever broach the subject again, and yet—

It was that bit about the Clave using Alec as a scapegoat. That’s what had got to him. Alec was too bright and wanted to do too much good to be thrown under the bus like that.

He gave himself a shake and pulled his shoulders back. “Me, Alec. I’m saying you need me.”

He tried to leave it at that. He’d meant to face Alec’s inevitable rejection silent and braced for impact, but it was no use. Magnus started pacing once more, his turns getting sharper, his gestures more emphatic. "I've…never really given marriage any serious consideration. Dot's right, though. People are dying, and if we can make this treaty a success, then it might be worth it. I know I have a certain reputation for decadence, though some of that is just the prudery of the Nephilim coloring their perceptions. But it is true that I’ve never seen any reason not to enjoy the pleasures an existence that spans centuries has to offer. Finding delight in what’s new and current keeps me from…calcifying as the ages pass and times change.”

He ventured a glance at Alec to see him frowning and rushed on, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not loyal when I’m committed to someone. I’m actually quite constant in my relationships. I’ve spent decades, occasionally an entire lifetime with a single partner. None of them wanted to marry me—or at least they never asked if they did—but infidelity was never the issue.”

Still, Alec said nothing, and it was hard to tell if that was better or worse than an outright refusal. Silence was intolerable, though, so Magnus pressed on at the risk of babbling.

“I have a very favorable reputation in the Downworld, which would be an asset as well. At times I’ve been something of a mentor to new Downworlders trying to find their way.” Now he was running out of selling points to enumerate. Time to wrap this up and wait for the hammer to fall. “You’re already well aware of how much power I command as a warlock, and despite my offhand attitude toward most things, on the political front I think you’ll find I can be very shrewd.”

“Obviously. I’ve seen that in just the time we’ve been talking here.” Alec’s brow was deeply furrowed, his fingers rubbing together restlessly. “Magnus, I-I’m not sure what to say. It’s a very generous offer.”

“But you’re going to decline.” Magnus tried to make himself smile and couldn’t quite pull it off. “I understand,” he lied.

“I’m not—I’m not saying no. I just—I—” Alec brought one of his hands up to hover beside his face, as though he could tug the thoughts from his brain. Then it fell limply to his side, and he gave Magnus a bewildered look. “I don’t know what it would _mean_.”

That…wasn’t what he had been expecting. Magnus returned to his chaise and curled up a little tighter than he had been before. He gestured invitingly to the chair Alec had occupied previously. "I'm not sure I follow."

Rather than sitting, Alec took over pacing the length of Magnus's little sanctuary, the icicle lights draped around the trellis archways brushing his head as he passed beneath them. “When I proposed to Lydia, we both knew exactly what we were getting into. We respected each other and worked well together and had a common goal. Neither of us pretended it was something it wasn’t.”

“A solid partnership. I remember,” Magnus murmured wryly. “You don’t think we could manage that?”

“No, we could. It’s just—” Alec pivoted to face him fully. “There’s also _history_. There’s more to it. Isn’t there?”

He ventured the question so tentatively it made Magnus ache to reassure him. It took an effort to stay curled up in his chaise, to focus on the practical issues, to not get caught up in the rest of it.

“Because of the—let us say _pull_ —we feel toward each other?” Magnus shrugged. “Is attraction, or the possibility of even more, such a bad thing to have in a marriage?”

“Maybe?” Alec folded his arms across his chest, hunching a little. “It makes it complicated. If it blows up, feelings or—or whatever, could undermine all the rest, couldn’t it?”

“To my understanding, marriage never comes with a guarantee," Magnus said dryly. "For some bizarre reason, people still find it worth the risk. And if you insist on looking for the practical advantage, that little _something more_ might just be the key to sidestepping the Seelies’ clever snare. You can call it a complication. I’d call it… _potential_.”

Magnus watching him mull that over. Gradually Alec dropped his arms, his posture loosening, opening up. “Potential. I like that.” He huffed another grim laugh. “Well, at worst you’ll only have to put up with me for forty, fifty years, tops.”

“Did I hear a ‘yes’ somewhere in there?” Magnus asked, pushing past the impulse to tell Alec how un-amusing he found that particular joke.

This was so not how he had imagined things would be when he finally proposed to someone. Not that he’d ever really imagined it at all.

“Yes,” Alec said cautiously, and then with more conviction. “Yes.”

He stood there fidgeting for a moment, then gave Magnus a self-effacing smile. “I’ve done this part before; you’d think I’d know what comes next.”

“Well, I haven’t, so I’m afraid we’ll have to wing it.” Magnus sighed. Everything within him that had been locked tight, waiting for disappointment, went slack in an instant. “You look exhausted, Alec. It's late, so let me suggest we both mull it over for a day. Go get some rest. Talk to Jace and Isabelle—you may want to hold off discussing things with your parents until we have a better idea of our plan. Come back tomorrow night, and we'll figure things out from there.”

“It’ll have to be late,” Alec said, nodding. “ _Really_ late. We’re too short-handed for me not go out on patrol, so I’m handling the administrative stuff during the day and hunting at night.”

“I’ll be sure to have some coffee available,” Magnus assured him, resisting the urge to ask when Alec was getting any sleep. “Good night, Alexander.”

Alec hovered awkwardly near the door for a moment, an impulse Magnus understood all too well because it just felt odd to just leave things there, considering that they were now engaged. Eventually, Alec crammed his hands into his jacket pockets and shuffled toward the doorway.

“Good night, Magnus.” He smiled hesitantly, the gentle, shy Shadowhunter Magnus had first been charmed by months ago peeking through the weariness and frustration. “And thank you.”

He was gone before Magnus could detach himself enough from that smile to string words together again.

“You’re very welcome.” He refilled his glass to the brim with a flick of his fingers and lifted it in a toast. “Congratulations, Magnus. You’re getting married.”


	3. An Overdue Discussion

A quick rap on the heavy wooden door was all the warning Alec got before Izzy popped her head into his office.

“Hey, big brother. I got your text, what’s up?”

“Come on in. Jace will be here in a moment.” Izzy perched on one of the armchairs, her hands clenched in her lap. She was smiling, but it was the same distracted smile she usually wore these days, like her mind was somewhere else entirely. Her only other mode was looking like she was half-dead. Of course, as understaffed as they were since the massacre, she probably wasn’t getting much more rest than Alec was. He’d have to check the patrol schedule and make sure she wasn’t doubling up too often.

“Did you find her—oh, hey, Izzy.” Jace smiled as he strode into the room and dropped into the chair next to her. “Looks like we’re all here. Something going on?”

Alec drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, slumping back to rest his hip on the corner of his desk. “I was at Magnus’s pretty late last night discussing how the summit went,” he began, choosing his words carefully.

“I heard it was rough,” Izzy said, her expression vaguely sympathetic.

Jace looked at her sharply. “Heard how?” he demanded. “I was texting you all last night inviting you to meet me so I could let you know how it went. You never answered.”

“Sorry, uh, um, my phone wasn’t charged.” Izzy gave him a brittle smile. “I bumped into, uh, Simon. Out on patrol. He filled me in.”

“Really,” Jace said flatly. “You must have been patrolling late. It was almost sun-up when Simon and Luke and I broke up our impromptu after-meeting at the Hunter’s Moon.”

Izzy shrugged. “Well, his being able to walk in sunlight means he doesn’t have to rush home before dawn. Makes it a little easier to catch up at the end of the night. And you’re living dangerously, going to the Hunter’s Moon. I’m surprised Maia didn’t try to poison your drink.” She turned to Alec and added a little wattage to her transparently false smile. “Anyway, you were saying?”

Jace stared at her a moment longer with narrowed eyes, then turned his attention back to Alec. “Yeah, go on. Did Magnus have anything helpful to suggest?”

"He said Meliorn's ultimatum is a trap on at least three different levels, which I'd pretty much already figured out. But it's good to know I'm not paranoid. Unfortunately, the Seelies have me boxed in." Alec rubbed his fingertips on the polished surface of the desk. "I _have_ to marry a Downworlder, and I have to be able to convince them that it's a marriage I view as valid—even though it's not a Shadowhunter marriage—with someone I see as an equal. Otherwise, they won't even consider the treaty, and if they don't sign the treaty, we've got nothing."

“That’s a tall order,” Izzy said, frowning. “What did Magnus recommend?”

Alec licked his lips and closed his eyes, bracing himself for a moment, before he answered, “He recommended I marry him. And I agreed.”

Jace and Izzy both stared at him a moment, dumbstruck. Then Jace puffed out his cheeks with a gusty sigh, and for once Izzy looked like she was entirely there in the room with them.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped. “Are you _kidding_ me?”

Jace spluttered. “Alec—wow. Just— _holy_ —Are you _sure_ about this?”

“No. Actually, _yes_ , I am." Alec tapped his knuckles against his blotter. "Magnus and I—we have things we need to settle. But I think we could make it work. He's got enough power that the Clave has to at least pretend to respect him, and the Downworlders will respond positively to him. Unlike anyone the Seelies would offer, I can be fairly sure he's not trying to insinuate himself into the Institute to weaken or disrupt us. He didn't have to offer, but he did. I think that says something."

“Mom’s going to lose her mind,” Izzy breathed, her eyes sparkling in a way Alec hadn’t seen in far too long. “I can’t wait. When will the wedding be?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” Alec shrugged helplessly. “Soon. I think? The sooner we can get everyone on board with the treaty, the less likely the Clave is to get wind of it and interfere. Magnus and I will be meeting tonight to figure some of that out.”

“Let us know when you’ve decided,” she said, rising. “I need to get going. Sun’s almost down.”

Alec blinked at her. “That’s it? You’re that eager to get out on patrol? I thought you’d at least hang around long enough to demand I let you take over planning the wedding.”

She scoffed. "Oh, please. As short-handed as we are, all you'd do is lecture me about keeping it simple. No, I'll let Magnus do the honors and deal with you complaining every step of the way." She rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek but quickly stepped back when Alec tried to hug her. "I've got to go."

When the door closed behind her, Jace gave Alec a bewildered look. “Okay, what the hell was that?”

“Damned if I know.” Alec sank into the chair Izzy had vacated, a headache blossoming behind his brows. “She hasn’t been the same since the demon attack.”

“To be fair, neither have you,” Jace pointed out with a knowing look.

“She didn’t _murder_ someone.”

“You didn’t either, Alec.” Jace sighed when Alec shrugged noncommittally. “But I get what you’re saying. I’d bet my stele Simon would say he never saw her this morning.”

"How else could she have found out how the meeting went? Meliorn can't lie. He said they weren't seeing each other. Or did he just imply that?" Alec ground the heels of his palms against his eyes and rose. "I don't know. I'll figure it out later. Come on. I need to get out on patrol because I've still got to meet Magnus tonight to go over…everything."

"So, Magnus, huh?" One corner of Jace's mouth lifted in a bemused smile as he accompanied Alec out the door. "I was kind of preoccupied around the time of your last wedding, but I always had a feeling something was happening there."

Alec huffed softly, leading the way toward the ops center and the weapon racks. "Something could have happened there, but didn't. Which was sort of the problem. Now? I - I don't know. Maybe it'll happen and it'll be great, or maybe I'm wrong and it'll just be a weird, awkward thing doomed to disaster and a lifetime of Mom telling me I should have known better."

“Hey.” Jace caught his shoulder and forced Alec to stop and turn to face him. “If you feel that way, why are you doing it?”

“Honestly?” Alec swallowed and closed his eyes. “Because this may be my only chance to have something I actually want. I don’t really know him well enough to feel anything besides interest yet, you know? But I feel like there’s…potential.” He seized on that word—Magnus’s word—like a talisman. “Yeah. Potential.”

Jace grinned and smacked him on the biceps, then continued on his way. “Well, that’s a hell of a lot more than you had going for you last time you thought about getting married. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

Alec snorted and grabbed his bow from the rack. “You just think that because you and Clary finally got your act together.”

“Well, at least you and Magnus don’t think you’re actually _related_. I mean, not to be all competitive, but as far as relationship obstacles go, I set the bar pretty damn high.”

"Yeah, like you'd ever be competitive about anything," Alec shot back, drinking in the sight of Jace being genuinely happy. It was rare to see him smile these days, unless it was something to do with Clary. Valentine's abuse and his way of twisting Jace's head around were awful enough, and Jace's horror over his role in activating the Soul Sword just made it all worse. Mired down as he was in his own guilt over Jocelyn's death, Alec didn't really know how to help Jace to move past it.

The fact that they were desperately overworked was probably the only thing keeping either of them from imploding. Somedays Alec didn’t know if it was his own remorse devouring him, or Jace’s.

“I’m gracious like that,” Jace said with a shrug and set off for the door.

* * *

As he’d predicted, it was ridiculously late before he managed to drag himself to Magnus’s loft. While Magnus excused himself to grab a couple things, Alec settled on the sofa with a cup of coffee Magnus had had waiting for him—

—And opened his eyes two hours later to find Magnus seated calmly nearby, his legs swinging over the arm of his chair while he quietly thumbed through a book.

"Oh, my God," Alec groaned. "I can't believe I did that. I'd ask if you put a potion in my coffee, but I'm sure it was just me. Magnus, I'm so sorry—"

Magnus held up a hand. “No apologies required.” He closed his book with a brisk snap and swung to his feet with a fluid movement. “Clearly you needed the rest. Why do you think I left you in the room alone for a while? Are you hungry? I could summon some sandwiches. There’s a 24-hour deli not far from here that’s quite good.”

“Sure, that’d be great.” Alec tried to push his embarrassment enough to offer Magnus a smile, and the warmth when Magnus returned it was enough to make him forget why he’d been embarrassed in the first place. “Thanks, Magnus.”

"You're very welcome." His hand glowed and blurred, and then there was a pair of sandwiches in takeout boxes on the coffee table and a mug of cocoa at Alec's elbow. Magnus grabbed one of the sandwiches and returned to his chair with a satisfied expression.

“You like to take care of people,” Alec blurted, then felt his face grow hot. Still, he pushed ahead. “I’m just thinking of the way you were with Luke, or with anyone who’s sick or injured. It’s what you do.”

Magnus gave him a wry look. “My secret’s out. No matter how hard I try to portray the jaded immortal concerned with nothing but his own amusement, the truth always manages to slip through.”

Alec swallowed hard, then took a plunge he'd been delaying for too long. "I've wanted to thank you. For - for saving my life, wh-when I was trying to find Jace. I meant to—I _intended_ to say it a lot sooner, but then there was the demon attack at the Institute and Jocelyn—I—”

"I was very sorry to hear about what happened to Jocelyn," Magnus said gently as Alec muffled anything else he'd intended to babble with a huge bite of his sandwich. " _And_ to you.”

_Chew, chew, swallow_. Alec used the pause to rally his defenses. “Me? I was fine.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, with little success.

“Somehow I doubt that.” There was so much compassion in Magnus’s eyes that Alec had to look away from it as his throat tightened and his eyes began to burn. He set the sandwich aside, suddenly not hungry, and reached for his cocoa instead. “Such a loss of volition can be quite traumatic.”

Alec gripped his mug so tightly it would have burned his hands, had it been just a little bit warmer. “I let a demon in. I have no one to blame but myself.”

“And Isabelle? She was possessed, too, wasn’t she? Is she also to blame?”

“What?” Alec jerked so hard cocoa sloshed onto his knee, soaking into his jeans. “ _No_ , of course not, that wasn’t—”

“— _Wasn’t her fault_ ,” Magnus completed in unison with him, his gaze steady. A snap of his fingers removed the splash of cocoa. “Why do you blame yourself but not her?”

Alec had no answer for that. Not one that he could speak aloud. Not one that wouldn’t lay bare all the conflict and tension and buried resentments that had been ripping at his family since his aborted wedding.

“Alexander,” Magnus said softly, and hearing the way Magnus and only Magnus said his full name tugged at something inside Alec. “Last night, you and Jace told a whole room full of people that you’re a new generation of Shadowhunters, devoted to doing things a new way. Perhaps a good place to begin shaking off the old baggage is to ease yourself out from under the unfair and impossibly exacting standards you’ve always been expected to meet.”

It was gracefully done, the way Magnus managed to imbue that sentiment with disapproval for Maryse and Robert Lightwood without ever making Alec feel like his family was being attacked. Alec sighed.

“You’re probably right,” he said after a long, slow sip of mint-infused cocoa that warmed him from the inside out. “I suppose some history is just easier to move past.”

“Don’t I know it?” Magnus rolled his eyes, nursing what looked like vodka. “Speaking of which—Alec, I want to explain what you saw that day after your wedding.”

“No.” Alec shook his head firmly. “I have no right to an opinion on that, not after the way I—Besides, as far as you knew, I’d just gotten married.”

“You’re right. I don’t owe you any explanations. But if we’re going to do this, I wish to offer them anyway.” Magnus gave him a frank gaze. “Will you hear me out?”

Alec drained his cocoa but held onto the mug just to keep his hands from fidgeting. He swallowed hard and nodded once. “All right.”

Magnus refilled the mug with a flick of his glowing fingers. “My history with Camille is complicated and often very uncomfortable. But it _is_ history. Except for our paths crossing on Downworld-related business every few decades, the last time I was involved with her was almost a century and a half ago.” He sighed, rolling his glass between his palms. “What you saw that day was me seeking some very ill-advised comfort, with a woman who can at times be absolutely _heartless_. She knows me inside and out, and she capitalized on my vulnerability and confusion to stir up mischief for her own amusement. What happened was a simple case of catastrophically bad timing on every front.”

“Mostly mine,” Alec scoffed. “I, um, heard you turned Camille in to the Clave?”

Magnus’s gaze dropped. “It was long past time for someone to stop her. I should have done it when I realized she was blackmailing Simon into pardoning her for murdering him.”

“Still, it couldn’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t.” They fell silent again, and Alec sipped his cocoa. He could feel the alcohol loosening muscles that felt like they’d been locked tight for months. It made him feel drowsy and scraped the rough edges off the awkwardness.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. It wasn’t until Magnus’s eyebrows shot up that Alec realized he’d blurted the apology out without any context. “For what I said a couple of days before my wedding, a-about you playing games. It was unfair. And I should have listened when you tried to talk to me after that _incident_ with Camille. I was lashing out. I did that a lot when Jace disappeared. Honestly, I'm a bit surprised anyone still talks to me at all. Especially Clary."

“Because of Jocelyn?”

“I was pretty hard on her even before that. I’ve tried to do what I can to make it right, but—”

“Yes, I heard all about your visit to Iris Rouse.”

Alec groaned and let his head fall back. The movement tipped him back further than he had anticipated; his neck muscles didn’t seem to want to hold his head up. “What a disaster that almost was. I assumed Clary had gotten a recommendation for Iris from you. I should have known better.”

“Clary is entirely too much like her mother,” Magnus said sternly. He rose and refilled his glass, not with magic the way he did Alec’s, but from a polished crystal bottle on a nearby table. “Once she’s convinced she knows what’s right, no one can dissuade her. I’ve fallen into that trap myself.” He met Alec’s eyes directly. “Be careful that your remorse over what happened to Jocelyn doesn’t take you too far in the opposite direction with regard to how you deal with her. She needs someone who isn’t going to enable her. Stopping her before she walks into catastrophe could be the truest act of friendship anyone ever shows her, even if she doesn’t appreciate it at the time.”

Alec nodded, pressing his lips together. "You know, in the end, that debacle might have saved my life. Madzie protected me when Valentine attacked the Institute. I still don't know why. All I ever did was smile and try to be friendly with her."

“For a child who has already faced enormous cruelty in this world, a little kindness can be an act of heroism.” Magnus leaned against one of the pillars, holding his glass against his cheek.

“I heard you got her out of Valentine’s clutches.” Alec coughed, trying not to wince at the flood of memories that accompanied any discussion of that morning. “How is she?”

"Fragile. It will be a long while before Madzie really knows who to trust again, but Catarina is an excellent guardian who can offer her safety and stability." Magnus pushed himself away from the pillar so suddenly he startled Alec into almost dropping his mug. "It's been a long night, and here it's already dawn. I'm restless, and you look half-asleep sitting there. Want to go for a walk with me?"

“Yeah.” It took Alec a moment to talk his semi-boneless limbs into moving, but he pushed himself up from his chair and met Magnus’s eager smile with one of his own. “Sure.”

* * *

They walked in silence for a while, Magnus holding his peace while Alec’s gently tipsy state faded, hastened along by the brisk spring air. Finally, he asked, “How are things at the Institute, after all the losses you took during Valentine’s attack?”

“Very quiet,” Alec said softly. “Everyone who survived that night is still sort of reeling. No one imagined we’d face those sorts of casualties.”

“I’m sorry, Alec. Among all the potential scenarios I imagined when Valentine stole my book of counter-spells, I never thought he’d use it to attack the Institute directly. I immediately sent a fire message warning Aldertree that the wards were vulnerable, but clearly he didn’t think Valentine would pull off such an audacious attack, either.”

Magnus watched the slabs of the sidewalk slip away under his feet one after the other, glimpsing Alec out of the corner of his eye as Alec’s hands clenched and unclenched anxiously.

“It’s not your fault,” he said finally. “You went out of your way to help us, even when we really didn’t offer you anything in return.” Alec stopped walking and looked directly at Magnus, his fingers still twitching in agitation. “For most of that day—I had no idea you made it out. Clary said you had come in with her, but you’d been separated, and I thought—I-I-I was sure I’d find you among the bodies.”

Alec looked so upset even speaking the words that it was all Magnus could do not to reach out to him. But regardless of their engagement, he hadn’t been invited to touch. In fact, the last time he’d tried, he’d been soundly rebuffed. He balled his fists to keep them at his sides.

Alec started walking again, and Magnus fell in beside him.

“I thought I—I wouldn’t ever get the chance to apologize to you, or thank you, or make anything right with you. And there were just—there were _so many bodies_. But I had to—to stay focused and get the job done and take over as Head of the Institute and deal with all the fallout. And it's—it's just—it's the hardest thing I've ever done, and now it's been _months_ and I still haven’t—”

“Alexander.” Magnus stopped them again and held up a hand, stopping just short of Alec’s lips as he’d done once before on another night when they’d shared drinks together. Just like before, the gesture pulled a shy, tiny smile to Alec’s face that hit Magnus like a punch to the chest. “You just did.”

It was a long moment before Alec turned away to resume their walk, and that sweet, crooked smile lingered.

“So now you’re officially Head of the Institute,” Magnus said lightly, shaking off any number of ill-considered and possibly unwelcome impulses.

Alec blew out a sharp breath. “For better or worse. However long it ends up lasting.”

“Would you really secede from the Clave?”

Alec flashed him a sideways look, his expression haunted. “If it meant preventing another massacre? _Absolutely_.”

Magnus’s heart clenched in his chest again. “That night changed you so much?”

“How could it not?” Alec turned his face up to the hazy sky and drew several slow, deep breaths. “Before that night, my concern for Downworlders was… _selfish_. Limited to a handful of people I gave a damn about. You. Luke. Simon, I suppose, because he was just a mundane who got mixed up with stuff he should never have been dragged into—and because people I care about would miss him. Raphael and Meliorn, if only to keep political relations stable. I didn’t wish Downworlders any harm, but I wasn’t really all that concerned about them, either. There were times I sounded just like my parents. Opposing Valentine’s crusade was more about loyalty to the Clave. My concern about his intentions regarding the Downworld was almost academic. It didn’t really touch _me_.” 

He swallowed and cleared his throat. Twice. “Seeing them die that way did… They were _people_ , with families, or friends, or lovers. They weren’t a danger to anyone. They just wanted to live their lives. They came that night to _help_. And Aldertree had just finished telling me this asinine story about a woman he supposedly loved, a werewolf who attacked him while she was traumatized. He claimed it was inevitable because she was a werewolf, like he was blaming this woman he'd been in love with for her own death. I just felt sick over the number of times I knew I'd said the same things."

A grim silence followed, Alec visibly wrestling with whatever phantoms still haunted him after that horrible night. Magnus didn’t know what to say to ease his burden of guilt and shame.

“Anyway,” Alec shook himself after a moment. “I decided there has to be a better way. I don’t blame the Downworlders for hating us after what Valentine did. For the way we’ve all treated them and neglected our duty toward them. They have a right to their anger. But I can’t let them kill my people because of it, and it’s either come down with an iron fist the way the Clave would prefer and start implanting the Inquisitor’s damned tracking chips, or do whatever it takes to secure the peace.”

“I think you’re headed in the right direction,” Magnus said, smiling. He stopped in front of one of the brownstones, and gestured up the steps. “But, if you need any more inspiration, perhaps this will help.”

Looking confused but not unwilling, Alec followed him up the steps and waited as Magnus knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened a crack to reveal Catarina’s blue face. “Cat, I brought a visitor for Madzie. Is she awake yet?”

“With the birds every morning.” Catarina smiled warmly, eying Alec up and down. “You must be the ‘tall friend’ she talks about sometimes. She’s just having breakfast. Come on in.”

The brightness of Alec’s smile when he spied Madzie lurking in the archway leading to the kitchen stole Magnus’s breath.

“Hey, Madzie. It’s good to see you again.” Alec squatted there in the entryway, getting down on the little girl’s level. He spoke softly. He didn’t rush into her space, but hung back, giving her the opportunity to decide how she felt about him being there. “Were you having a good breakfast?”

She shook her head silently, her eyes wary.

“What? Not your favorite breakfast today? What is it, oatmeal?”

She shook her head again.

“Eggs?”

A tiny nod.

“Ugh.” Alec made an exaggerated grimace. “I used to like eggs, but then my little sister decided she could cook.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “ _She can’t really cook_. I don’t know what she did, but those weren’t eggs anymore by the time she told me I was supposed to eat them.”

A tiny smile started to tug at Madzie’s mouth, but then her eyes grew huge and her lip started to wobble.

“Hey,” Alec said gently. “What is it?”

“Did I hurt her?” Madzie whispered, and Magnus’s eyes started to sting.

“No.” Alec kept his voice quiet, but the shake of his head was adamant. “No, she’s perfectly okay. She wasn’t even there.”

“I hurt your friends.” Madzie sniffled. “You were yelling. Are you mad at me?”

“No. No, I’m not mad. That wasn’t your fault, Madzie. A bad man told you to do that, but you didn’t know he was bad. Grown-ups aren’t supposed to trick you like that.” Alec smiled softly, reaching out with one cautious finger to chuck her under the chin. “And you saved me, didn’t you? Plus, you know what? We caught the bad man and sent him to jail, so he won’t hurt anyone again. We couldn’t have done that if you hadn’t brought him to us. So, in the end, you helped us catch him.”

“I did?” she asked tremulously.

“Yeah. So how about we go finish your breakfast before it gets cold? Then maybe you can show me some of your toys?”

Madzie pulled a face. “I don’t like eggs.”

“Yeah? What do you like?”

“French toast.”

“Wow, me too.” Alec gave her that brilliant, lopsided smile and this time, she smiled back. “Now, don’t tell my sister, but I’m a _way_ better cook than she is, and my French toast really isn’t bad. You think Catarina will mind if we have that instead of eggs? If we promise to clean up our mess when we’re done?”

Catarina nodded, blinking in surprise. “As long as you make enough for everyone, kiddo, that’ll be fine. Madzie will show you where everything is while Magnus and I talk. Call us when it’s ready.”

Madzie grabbed Alec’s hand and began tugging him into the kitchen, and Alec followed without a backward glance. When they were out of sight, Magnus ducked into Catarina’s study off the other side of the foyer.

Catarina closed the door behind them. “ _That’s_ the new Head of the New York Institute? No wonder you were tied up in knots over that boy.”

Magnus collapsed against the wall, clutching his chest.

“I’m going to marry him, Cat.”


	4. An Impromptu Luncheon

Alec had just finished sending off the overdue report on last night’s demon activity when his phone buzzed with a text message from Magnus.

_I brought lunch. Will I trigger the alarms if I pass the wards?_

_I’ll be right there to escort you._

“The Clave’s injunction against Downworlders in the Institute still stands?” Magnus asked a moment later, balancing a box of takeout cartons and what looked like a blanket as Alec held the door for him.

“Since they haven’t seen fit to reiterate it, I’m just going to pretend it doesn’t,” Alec said. And then, because it seemed necessary to actually acknowledge the reality of what they were planning aloud, he added, “Besides, as Head of the Institute, I have to live here, so I imagine you’re going to be a fixture as well. I-I mean, assuming—” He nearly stumbled on the steps from the Ops Center up to the hallway leading to his office. “Or rather, _not_ to assume that you’d want to live here, or even—or, I—”

“It’s okay, Alexander.” Magnus smiled patiently and let Alec get the door to the office. “Those are exactly the sorts of details we’re here to work out, aren’t they?”

Alec breathed deeply to stem any further urge to babble idiotically. “Yeah, I guess they are.”

“Hence the reason I brought lunch,” Magnus said brightly, handing the box to Alec and draping the blanket across his arm. “I understand you’re busy, but there are things we didn’t get around to discussing the other night that we should probably settle, and I have a feeling you’ve been neglecting meals as much as you have sleep.”

"You're not wrong." Alec inhaled deeply, and his mouth started watering. "Whatever it is, it smells great."

"Lamb kabob. I also noticed you seem to like to be outdoors when you need a respite, and I remembered seeing a balcony off this office when I was being interviewed by Aldertree, so I thought we might have a little, improvised picnic?"

A familiar warmth began pulsing in Alec’s chest, making his breath come a little shorter. He remembered the feeling. He’d felt it a lot, those first few days when he’d begun to get to know Magnus. And then he’d gone and ruined whatever had been emerging between them by proposing to Lydia.

Back then, the feeling had been terrifying and not-quite-welcome. It had threatened to undo the careful layers of denial Alec had structured around himself and expose his most closely-held secret for everyone to see.

Now, that warmth was a relief. It felt like _hope_ , and a promise that this monumental risk they were taking wouldn't end in complete disaster.

“Alexander?”

Alec blinked to see Magnus unfolding the blanket at the French doors, looking at him quizzically, and realized he’d been staring, and—if the unaccustomed strain in his cheeks was any indication—smiling stupidly.

“A picnic sounds perfect,” he said with absolute sincerity. “Thank you.”

Magnus ducked his head, smiling and looking very pleased with Alec’s response, but in a shy way, as though he wasn’t used to people being unstintingly appreciative of his efforts. Alec made a mental note to try to do it as often as he could.

He set the box of food down next to where Magnus had spread out the blanket and began unpacking the cartons. The rich, meaty scent of the lamb mingled with saffron, lemon, and ginger as he unwrapped a cucumber salad with tomatoes and feta and couscous with some sort of roasted peppers. Magnus settled on the blanket and laid out disposable plates and cutlery.

“This place has the best lamb kabobs this side of Marrakesh,” he explained as they passed the cartons back and forth to dish up their food. “I’d have offered to portal us to Marrakesh for lunch, but you seem a little busy for that.”

“This is perfect,” Alec assured him before stripping the succulent meat from a skewer with his teeth. “Really. Perfect.”

Magnus looked delighted with his enthusiasm. "I don't always get the opportunity to take lunch. It depends on what sort of clients I have, or if there's a potion brewing that I need to attend to, and so forth. So it's nice to have a chance to get out and do something like this."

“Your clients keep you busy?”

Magnus shrugged. "It waxes and wanes, I suppose. Between the club and various other investments, I don't need to take clients at all so I can afford to be choosy about what sort of appointments I accept. Mostly I do it to keep from becoming bored, and also because talking to clients about the other warlocks they've consulted for their needs gives me an idea of who is up to what and whether someone is dabbling in something they shouldn't be."

Alec frowned. “Do you step in often with things like that?”

"From time to time. I have zero tolerance for certain activities, and the warlocks in my territory know it." Magnus slid a halved cherry tomato into his mouth, chewing slowly, and Alec found his eyes riveted to the dab of juice glistening on his bottom lip. He had to force himself to drop his gaze to his plate before he got caught staring. "I'm much more vigilant since I found out what Iris Rouse was up to. I was aware of a slight uptick in warlock children being born; I could feel their magic. But had I known about Iris's little… _project_ …I would have put a stop to it long ago.”

“Do you think the warlocks will agree to the treaty?”

“I’m in talks with the High Warlocks of the other four boroughs, and I have reason to hope they’ll be amenable. We didn’t suffer the same losses in the massacre as the other Downworld factions; most warlock participation in the resulting hostilities has been opportunistic, a product of long-standing but unrelated grudges against Shadowhunters. But—” Magnus set his plate aside and drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. “—that’s not what I’m here to discuss.”

Alec resisted the urge to groan. “The wedding.”

“The wedding,” Magnus agreed, sounding both amused at Alec’s dread of the subject and mildly apologetic for it. “I’m sure you would rather it be a very intimate event with little fanfare, but unfortunately my enjoyment of a rousing party is too well-known. I worry that if we try to make the affair _too_ small—”

“—The Seelies will interpret it as me being ashamed of marrying you.” Alec grimaced between bites. “You know what? Screw them. I’m not ashamed of anything. We’ll make it the biggest, most enthusiastic party we can and fling it in their faces.”

Magnus stared at him for a moment, almost as though he were startled by Alec’s declaration. Then he shook himself and did his equanimous little _yes, but…_ head tilt. "It's a good idea—in theory. But if you spend the entire time miserable because the spectacle takes you too far outside your comfort zone, that would defeat our purpose as well. Plus, I would personally prefer it if our wedding was something you didn't find unbearable." Alec blinked at him in astonishment, and Magnus laughed. "Is that really so far-fetched?"

"Sorry." Alec shook his head, trying to readjust his worldview to reconcile the idea. "I'm just—I'm _private_ , you know, and—and I don’t really like… _people_. So it just never occurred to me—”

“—That you shouldn’t hate your own wedding?” Magnus flung up his hands in a flamboyant shrug. “What can I say? I’m just full of radical notions.”

Alec caught himself before he could start stammering again. “I-I have no idea what that would look like.”

"Well, I suppose that's something we need to figure out," Magnus said with a smile, then sighed. "Admittedly, it would be a tall order to expect it to be something you can truly relax and have fun with. Nerves and pressure and the inevitable politics that will creep in will probably see to that. But I can do my best not to make it too much of an ordeal. Trust me?"

A reluctant smile began tugging at the corners of Alec’s mouth. “Yeah. Okay. What were you thinking?”

Magnus’s lips pursed thoughtfully. “Start by splitting the difference, I suppose? A small ceremony with friends, family, and a handful of Shadowhunter and Downworld notables, followed by a party that will blow the roof off my loft.”

“Not literally, I hope. I kinda like your roof,” Alec protested, thinking of that comfortable refuge where he’d sipped hot cocoa under the night sky.

“Do you?” Magnus gave him that cautiously pleased smile that kept grabbing at something inside Alec’s chest, the one where it seemed like he would have been beaming except that whatever had prompted it had caught Magnus off-guard and left him feeling shy. “I admit, it’s my little sanctuary. We _could_ have the ceremony there if you'd like? I mean, it's possible to have it here at the Institute, but if we do invite certain politically important Downworlders… Well, the last time Meliorn was here, he was interrogated and nearly tortured. Raphael _was_ tortured, here in this very office. They may not be comfortable—”

“No. The roof would be perfect.” Alec said, surprised by his own vehemence. Suddenly he could see it, a simple, intimate gathering in that peaceful garden. It was an unexpectedly appealing picture. “But no politics. We only invite friends and family to the ceremony. That’s what I want.”

Magnus's smile grew brighter. "Then that's what we'll do. And for the party afterward, I'll make sure the roof is cordoned off, so no one intrudes up there, in case you need somewhere quiet to take a break."

Alec closed his eyes and let himself envision it for a moment longer. For the first time, it seemed like what Magnus was saying might actually be possible. This whole thing could be something he wouldn't have to grit his teeth and suffer through.

"That sounds great," he said finally. He chuckled, picking a few crumbs of couscous off his empty plate. "I'm sort of glad now that Izzy passed on helping plan this."

“Did she?” Magnus’s brows pushed together. “That’s…surprising. I half-expected her to try to take over. I had all my best banter brushed up and ready to go for once we’d settled on who was in charge of what.”

"Yeah, well, I guess we're all just too overworked these days," Alec muttered, squirming under Magnus's frown. Mentioning Isabelle was clearly a mistake if he didn't want to get into the whole thing. "Anyway, what's next to decide?"

* * *

Magnus didn't like the way Alec's eyes shifted away, and he plucked restlessly at the blanket. This was twice now that Alec had indicated something wasn't right with his sister. The Isabelle Magnus had defended in her trial last year would never have missed out on helping to plan her brother's wedding.

But then, that had been before she'd been possessed by a demon and had tried to kill her brother. A lot had happened in the intervening months. Clearly, Alec was unhappy talking about it, and perhaps now while they were trying to get comfortable with each other wasn't the time to push.

He shook off his confusion and tried to pick up the threads of what they’d been discussing before.

"The ceremony. A Shadowhunter ceremony is out of the question—though if you wish to wear gold, I have no objections—but warlocks have few wedding traditions to fall back on as an alternative. I don't think either of us would care for a mundane ceremony, so I'm not sure where that leaves us."

Alec made a thoughtful sound. “ _I_ don’t expect it to be a Shadowhunter ceremony, but if we do keep one or two elements of that, it might help appease my family and the Clave?” He shrugged. “Though, it’s not like we can have a Silent Brother officiating or anything.”

“Perhaps we could.” Magnus smiled at Alec’s confused blink. “I know a guy. Let me look into it?”

“Sure.” Alec still looked perplexed, but he nodded agreeably. “But—here’s the other thing: This is your wedding too, right? So—so we shouldn’t just focus on making it as close to a Shadowhunter wedding as possible. We need to make sure there are parts of it that are… _you_. So, maybe if we have a Silent Brother officiating, we can forget about wearing gold. You can dress us however you like. Or something.”

Magnus grinned. “Ooh. That’s a _dangerous_ offer, Alexander. You sure you’re up for it?”

“Sure.” Alec’s smile held a hint of challenge, and the temperature spiked unreasonably high for a mild spring afternoon. Especially once that smile widened into a competitive grin and Alec played his ace, “You asked me to trust you, right?”

Magnus clutched his chest with exaggerated dismay. “Well, now I’m going to regret making that request. Alas for the liberties I could have taken.”

Alec blushed and ducked his head, but he didn’t seem too put off by the flirtation, so Magnus decided to call it a win.

Enough so that maybe it was time to clean up the remnants of the picnic and make his departure, while Alec was still feeling positive about things.

Smiling, Magnus cleared away the plates and empty cartons with a gesture. “Well, that should give me something to start with. We have a few details to iron out still, but we should be able to pull this together in fairly short order. We _do_ want to do this quickly, right?”

“Absolutely,” Alec said with an emphatic nod. “I don’t see any reason to delay.”

Well, damn. Now they were going to have to get serious again. "Are you certain, Alec? A longer engagement might offer you time to reconsider if you're—"

Alec met Magnus's eyes directly, with a steady gaze so unlike his usual shy, fleeting glances that Magnus had to swallow hard, unable to complete his thought.

“Like I said, I don’t see any reason to delay.”

Alec’s certitude made something inside Magnus’s chest lurch. This entire lunchtime planning session had been full of little surprises from Alec, and each one knocked another few bricks off the barrier Magnus was trying to erect between his feelings and the fact that this marriage might not end up being anything more than a political transaction.

Magnus drew a slow breath that was a little shakier than he would have liked. “A short engagement it is. That does bring us back to the question we started on.”

“Where we’re going to live?” Alec said it comfortably, as though his moment of resolve still lingered and he had no doubts or room for hesitation in his mind. As though he’d shifted gears from feeling his way to full speed ahead. “Definitely something we need to talk about, but my phone has buzzed about twenty times in my pocket since we started eating lunch. I think I may be out of time for today,” he said ruefully.

“Do you ever get an evening off?”

Alec caught his lip between his teeth. “I’ve been trying to schedule everyone for at least one evening off patrols a week. Which is part of why I have to fill in.”

Magnus nodded slowly. “Alexander, I understand you’re in a difficult situation, with too much to do and too few resources to accomplish it all. But you may wish to consider how successful you can actually be negotiating these treaties and establishing the Council if you’re so exhausted you can’t function. That’s just…something to think about.” Magnus rose and brushed himself off, gathering up the blanket when Alec followed suit. “In the meantime, well, I suppose I’ll just have to accompany you on patrol if I want to talk things over, won’t I?”

“You don’t need to do that, Magnus,” Alec protested as Magnus began casting his portal spell. “Bringing me lunch, making all the wedding arrangements—it’s not really fair to you, is it? The least I can do is make time to swing by your place after patrol.”

Magnus hummed softly. "So, perhaps a more equitable division of labor? I'm all for it. Just tell me what you have room for on your plate, and I'll let you handle it."

Alec’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly until he gave Magnus a helpless look.

Magnus just smiled. “I’ll meet you here at sundown tomorrow for patrol then, shall I?”

“Sounds good,” Alec agreed, color staining his cheeks.

Magnus moved toward the portal, then stopped, turning back to Alec. "Oh, I meant to ask: did Isabelle's investigation into the Downworld drug trade turn up anything I should be aware of regarding warlock involvement?" He kept his voice casual, relaxed. As though his inquiry was off the cuff. The last thing he wanted to do was offend Alec if his vague suspicion turned out to be wrong.

“Sorry, her what?” Alec gave him a puzzled look, his smile slowly fading. “I...wasn’t aware of any investigation.”

"A few months back I saw Isabelle attempting to buy _yin fen_ from a certain reprobate warlock, whom I quickly sent packing. She said she was investigating a distribution ring on Aldertree's orders." Alec's expression darkened, an awful thing to see after he'd been so relaxed and happy just moments ago. If Magnus was wrong about this, he might have just laid another burden on Alec's shoulders for no reason. If he was right, however… "Ah. Well, perhaps the investigation was concluded before you took over as Head of the Institute."

“Maybe.” Alec blinked a few times, then nodded. “I’ll look through Aldertree’s records and see if I can find the report. If there’s anything you need to know as High Warlock, I’ll be sure to pass a copy on to you.”

“Thank you, Alexander. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stepped through the portal before Alec could reply, cursing himself for leaving Alec with that frown on his face.


	5. An Invigorating Patrol

Patrol the next night took them directly into a nest of Shax demons that were somehow under the sway of a hobgoblin who had been the subject of Valentine’s experiments.

“We’ve been seeing this a lot,” Alec whispered as he hunkered close to Magnus. They observed the nest through a sewer grate, watching the coming and going of the Shax demons and the insane gibbering and anguished howls of the mutilated creature of Faerie. The scent of the musty, disused pipes was overpowered by soap and sweat and leather; Magnus had to forcibly pull his attention back to the task at hand. “Injecting the Downworlders with demon blood has created some odd connections between the surviving remnants of Valentine’s zoo and various species of demon.”

“It almost appears that they’re worshipping him,” Magnus pointed out, observing a sort of improvised altar with offerings of roadkill and what looked appallingly like carrion scavenged from fresh mundane graves. “This isn’t normal Shax behavior.”

Alec shrugged, pulling his bow from his shoulder. “At least we don’t have to deal with live victims they’ve laid their eggs in this time. I’ll take the goblin down first; if his control over the Shax runs deep enough, it may disorient them and make the fight easier.”

Magnus summoned sizzling red tendrils of magic to his fingers. “Do it.”

The runed tip of Alec’s arrow caught the hobgoblin in the throat, flinging it back to gurgle its last breaths against the mold-stained concrete wall. In unison, the two-dozen or so Shax demons that had been groveling before it turned in Magnus and Alec’s direction and sent up an unearthly screech.

“Oh, hell,” Alec muttered, whipping another arrow from his quiver.

“I don’t think they’re as discombobulated as we hoped they’d be,” Magnus observed, flinging a ball of power that smashed into two demons and splattered them into a shower of ichor and gristle.

“I noticed,” Alec said between clenched teeth, picking demons off the walls one at a time. Nearly a dozen were dead by the time the rest reached the sewer grate, which stopped their progress. It wouldn’t be for long though; the gaps were large enough to allow them to wriggle through if they could manage to stop jostling one another.

Murmuring an incantation, Magnus hurled a bolt of energy that instantly heated the iron bars red-hot. The nearest Shax demons caught fire and exploded, raining fire on the others. They fell back, shrieking and smoldering, while Alec’s arrows streaked past Magnus’s ear, whistling sharply before they pierced each small, scaly body.

When the last demon had dissolved into cinders, Magnus clenched his fists, cutting off the flow of power and letting it dissipate from his fingers. He pulled the glamour back up to conceal his eyes, then glanced over to see Alec staring at him, transfixed. His eyes were dark, his mouth open. As Magnus watched, Alec swallowed and swiped his tongue across his lips.

Magnus’s mouth went dry. With the rush of battle energy still riding him, it took everything he had not to accept that unconscious invitation, to keep his voice light and his body language passive.

“Well, that was invigorating. Where to next?”

* * *

Thankfully, the Ravener demon sighting they went to investigate turned out to be some failed artist’s half-finished sculpture at the bottom of a pile of junk being thrown out of an abandoned apartment. Magnus was glad it didn’t turn out to be another fight, because it was getting late and Alec’s exhaustion was starting to show. However, Alec’s subtle disappointment that they wouldn’t be fighting together again was adorable.

Perhaps it was time to confront the elephant tap-dancing in middle of the room.

“So,” Magnus started as he called up a portal that would take them directly to his rooftop and spare them the walk. “Have you given any more consideration to living arrangements?”

Alec made an emphatic noise which suggested that yes, the subject had been heavily on his mind, but just then the portal snatched them out of one point in reality and dropped them in another. Alec, it had to be said, dealt with portal travel considerably better than Simon. He barely stumbled, nor did he appear ready to vomit.

He unslung his bow and laid it on the patio table, then glanced at the chair he’d occupied the last time they’d come up here before choosing the small sofa instead. It wasn’t lost on Magnus that he kept to one end and left half of the love-seat available.

“I have,” Alec said slowly. “The thing is, there’s really no easy answer, is there? I have to stay at the Institute, at least some of the time, and you have, well, all this.” He swept an arm around, encompassing the rooftop garden and the loft in general.

"I do," Magnus agreed, settling beside him. Tension sizzled between them. He kept his posture relaxed, trying to let Alec settle into their nearness and get comfortable with it. "This is my home, and also where I work. I doubt the Clave would look kindly upon me brewing potions and performing incantations and summonings in the Institute. I sometimes work irregular hours depending on whether my clients need a late night appointment, or if I have a potion that needs tending overnight or research that needs to be done. So. I can't live full-time at the Institute, and you can't live full-time _away_ from the Institute.”

"Right." Alec's shoulders drooped, and he rubbed his palms on the knees of his jeans. "I guess that's settled then," he said tonelessly.

“Not necessarily.” Alec flicked a confused—and, Magnus thought, perhaps a little hopeful—glance his way. “I didn’t say I would mind spending what evenings I could at the Institute, or that I’d mind having you here whenever you have a chance to get away. So I suppose the real question is: is there any reason we’d want to do that?”

Alec’s lips moved without any sound escaping. His gaze dropped to Magnus’s mouth and then flicked back up just as quickly. “I-I-I don’t—I just—I—” He cleared his throat and rasped. “I’m not sure. Is there?”

“I can think of plenty.” It took an effort to keep his voice calm despite the racing of his heart. To resist the impulse to jump right to the largest—and yet in many ways least important—question they needed to answer. “To share information that will be important for our work together on the Council. To enjoy a meal with one another, to connect, to _bond_ , to become friends, perhaps even to try to become a…family? What we need to decide here, Alexander, is if this marriage is going to be a purely titular arrangement—or if we’re going to make it something more. _You_ need to know what you want.”

“What I want.” Alec scoffed. “I’m still trying to get used to the idea that that’s even relevant.”

“Clearly the thought must have occurred to you at some point. You called off your wedding.”

“Do you know why I did that?”

“In general? I probably have a good idea. But at that specific moment? No.”

Alec drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “You know that I was… _confused_ …about how I felt for Jace.”

Magnus nodded.

“There was a weird kind of safety in that,” Alec continued. “I felt like something was wrong with me, but as long as I could focus all those feelings I knew I shouldn’t have on _Jace_ , then it was fine. Because I knew nothing could ever happen there. I could never have what I wanted, so I didn’t ever have to deal with the fact that I wanted it.” He turned his head to face Magnus, the look in his eyes utterly naked. “And then you came along.”

Magnus’s heart lurched in his chest.

“I-I tried to carry on the way I always did. Fulfill my duty. Follow the rules. What I wanted…what I _felt_ …didn’t matter, as long as I stuck to the plan. But the night before my wedding, something happened.”

“What was it?” Magnus asked softly.

“Jace and I finally talked again. And we got onto the subject of Clary, and finding out that she was supposedly his sister.” Alec sighed. “He told me he had been falling in love with her and it—didn’t bother me. All I could think about was you. And that’s when I knew I couldn’t pretend anymore.”

"Alexander…I…don't really know what to say." Magnus laid a careful hand on Alec's forearm and was rewarded by Alec turning to look him in the eye again, his gaze frank.

“Seeing you with Camille? _That_ bothered me.”

Magnus shook his head. “You have nothing to be concerned about there.”

“I know.” Alec turned to face straight ahead, his face somber. “But you have a lot of… _history_. With other people.”

“I do,” Magnus agreed. “I wouldn’t pretend otherwise even if I could. But it _is_ history.”

“I…don’t have that.” Alec cleared his throat. “With anyone.”

Magnus inhaled slowly, taking the time to process that news. Despite his offhand remark once about “virgin Shadowhunter energy” he hadn’t really ever believed… “No one?” he asked carefully.

Alec’s knee began to bounce, jostling the hand Magnus had resting on his arm still. “I just never really had time—or made time, I guess. It didn’t seem worth it if I had to pretend…”

Magnus added a little more pressure to his grip and said nothing. This wasn’t about his opinion, just now, and Alec didn’t need his advice. He needed compassion and space to work out the tangled thoughts in his head at his own pace.

“I guess what I mean is—I’m not pretending anymore. And now you’re going to be my _husband_ and I—don’t know what to do with all that. It’s just—too much.” He closed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. “Nothing’s the way I ever thought it would be.”

“There’s no rule that says you have to rush to figure out how you feel about that,” Magnus said gently. “It’s a lot to get used to. We have time to settle in with the idea.”

“What if I want to?” Alec asked abruptly. His knee stopped bouncing, and he pinned Magnus with an unexpectedly direct stare. “Rush, I mean? What if—what if I’m _tired_ of feeling like life’s a damn puzzle that everyone but me gets a crack at solving? Magnus, I— _we_ —have a chance at a real marriage. Don’t we?”

This would be the perfect moment for rational thought. To explain to Alec that yes, Magnus would very much prefer it if they had a real marriage and not a cold political alliance, please and thank you. But all Magnus could do was swallow and nod.

And then Alec’s hand was on his jaw, drawing him in. He paused when they were only a breath apart, his eyes searching Magnus’s permission. And when Alec found what he was looking for, his lips covered Magnus’s, clumsy at first, but ardent. Magnus clutched Alec’s bicep to hold him in place as they found their rhythm, breaths synchronizing, tongues stroking and retreating.

He couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had moved him like this, or even if one ever had. It could have been Magnus’s first kiss for the way it shook his very foundation. He had to chase after it when Alec broke off, needing more. It felt like he could finally breathe again once Alec dove back in.

Alec was a fast learner, and by the time they both came up for air, he was half-pinned between Alec’s body and the back of the love-seat. Not the most comfortable position to be in, but the pressure and warmth of Alec against him made it worth it.

Alec’s forehead rested against his, as though he couldn’t bring himself to pull back any farther.

“So, I guess that’s a yes to trying to find a way to spend our evenings together when we can,” he murmured, then slid another whisper-soft kiss across Magnus’s lips.

Magnus wanted more kisses. He wanted to guide Alec over to the chaise and lie beneath his weight until they were both ready to burst into flames unless they started to lose some clothing. He wanted to see Alec’s pale skin and dark hair against his crimson sheets in the morning, and…

…and do this right.

He wanted to do this right. Because this wasn’t just a single lust-driven encounter, or a few experimental dates to try a relationship on for size. This was _marriage_ and nothing in all his centuries of life had prepared him for how to approach that.

“I think that’s an excellent place to begin,” Magnus said, pulling away reluctantly. His lips tingled as though he could still feel Alec against them, and he stroked the spot with his thumb as he considered his next words. “I think we need to handle this as though it’s fragile. After all, we still barely know each other. Wanting to be together is a good start, but perhaps a little bit of, well, courtship wouldn’t be out of place?”

Alec's crooked smile was bashful but pleased. "All right. What did you have in mind?"

“We’re both quite busy, especially you right now. The time we have is limited. So, until the wedding, could we make a point of setting aside an hour or so to have dinner together? And when I have an evening free, I could join you on patrol the way we did tonight.”

“I can work with that,” Alec said decisively, reaching into his pocket. “In the meantime…this is our family ring. It’s Shadowhunter tradition—”

“—For your betrothed to wear it until the wedding.” Magnus blinked in astonishment at the gleaming signet in Alec’s hand. “Yes, I know.”

"You don't have to wear it if you don't want," Alec said quickly. "It probably doesn't match your style, and I wouldn't want you to change anything. And I don't know which of your rings are magical artifacts, so I don't know if you can do without any of them. I just…thought I'd offer."

His heart hammering a little harder than it should have been, Magnus drew the ornate M off his ring finger and took the signet from Alec's palm, sliding it on in its place. It wasn't an unusually large ring, and yet it seemed weightier than it should have. Putting it on felt…momentous.

Alec felt it too, Magnus was sure of it. He stared at Magnus’s hand for a long moment, and then looked at Magnus with wonder and vulnerability written all over his face.

This was real. They were making it happen.

Amazed and unable to piece together the words to express it, Magnus instead laid his hand on the side of Alec’s neck where his pulse raced beneath that bold, dark rune, and kissed him again.

* * *

When it came to the point where it was a choice between prying their lips off each other or escalating things to a level neither of them was sure they were ready to approach yet, Magnus summoned them up drinks and a late-night snack. Somehow Alec ended up with Magnus’s legs across his lap, munching on diced cheese and drinking something fruity and sweet that made him realize how sleepy he was.

Sleepy, but also giddy. He’d _kissed_ Magnus. They’d agreed to try to make this marriage something more than just a political arrangement. For the first time since he was a preteen, Alec was looking toward his future as something more than an unending series of joyless obligations to fulfill.

He wanted more kisses, and he wanted everything that came after them. Despite his constant weariness, he felt _awake_ in a way he never had before, except for those few days when Magnus had first started flirting with him. He felt like his entire body was coming to life, demanding things he’d never seriously believed he could have.

He was ready for that. At least, physically he was. Mentally…well, he was most of the way there. Magnus’s idea of treading lightly was probably a good one, even if his body didn’t quite buy it.

“I thought Jace mentioned you had cats,” Alec said, apropos of nothing. This was his fourth visit since the summit and he’d still never seen a cat, despite Jace’s complaints about the things from when he’d been staying with Magnus a few months ago.

Magnus sighed tragically. “I used to take care of some of the local ferals, but I had to send them away after my book of counter-spells was stolen during a rave I threw. Iris Rouse gained entrance by disguising herself as a cat and bespelled some of my guests, at Valentine’s behest. I miss them terribly, but I had gotten careless and needed to take more precautions.”

Alec frowned, chewing slowly on a bite of melon. “You said you told Aldertree about that?”

“Of course. I made sure to notify everyone I’d created wards for that their defenses were vulnerable.”

“Hmm.”

“Something wrong?” Magnus asked, his brows drawing together.

“When Madzie brought down the wards, the first thing Aldertree did was question me about being wrong regarding how impenetrable the defenses supposedly were.” Alec leaned over Magnus’s legs to set his plate on the coffee table. “But he _knew_ what had happened at your party, right? Why would he say that if he was aware the wards had been compromised?”

“Perhaps he didn’t bother to read my fire message?” Magnus proposed with a slight roll of his eyes. “It was clear from our interview when he first took over that he didn’t think much of me.”

"Yeah, maybe." Something restless was squirming at the back of Alec's brain, and he tapped his fingers anxiously on Magnus's shin. "I think I need to get going."

“Of course.” Magnus gave him a soft smile. “We got done with patrol early. You have the opportunity to get something resembling a full night’s sleep.”

"Actually, I thought I'd go over Aldertree's files. All correspondence to the Head of the Institute from Downworld dignitaries is supposed to be logged, and I want to see what he had to say about your message."

Magnus nodded thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea, but perhaps you should do it tomorrow? After you’ve slept. I’d prefer it if you _didn’t_ collapse from exhaustion before our wedding.”

Warmth blossomed in Alec’s chest and spread outward, suffusing his limbs. When Magnus swung his legs off Alec’s lap to sit up, Alec caught him for another kiss that left them both quivering.

“I’ll be sure to try to get more rest,” he promised breathlessly once they’d parted, and let Magnus create a portal back to the Institute for him.


	6. An Unpleasant Confrontation

Alec scrolled down through the file, pointing out highlighted lines to Jace, who was leaning over his shoulder.

“See?” He tabbed over to another file. “No record of Izzy’s investigation into a _yin fen_ distribution ring.”

Jace folded his arms across his chest and stepped back with a shake of his head. “Aldertree was a total paper-pusher. No way he’d keep incomplete records unless he had something to hide.”

“Whatever it is, Izzy has to still be mixed up in it. Distracted, tired, running out on patrol every night the second the sun goes down? She has to still be tracking vamps.” Alec spun his chair around to face Jace. “But why wouldn’t she tell me? If she’s still investigating, who is she reporting to?”

“Maybe she’s not,” Jace said, shuffling a little. “Maybe she got in over her head.”

“ _What_?” Alec shook his head, trying to clear his ears because Jace could not have possibly just suggested— “Jace, this is _Izzy_ we’re talking about.”

“Yeah, Izzy. Who hasn’t been the same since the demon attack, you said it yourself.” Jace scowled. “Do me a favor. Check the reports about Izzy’s mission to the Adamant Citadel.”

Alec turned back and clicked on the file in question and frowned. “It might as well be blank. It says when Izzy and Clary were dispatched and when they returned. All it says about what they found out is that they didn’t obtain any useful intelligence about Valentine’s interest in the sword.”

Jace grunted. “But they did. Sister Cleophas told Clary about the Soul Sword being able to kill Downworlders _en masse_.”

"Which Clary didn't report because she was afraid of what would happen if the information got out," Alec noted, then paused. "If both of them were there, why was Clary the only one who knew?"

“Clary told me one-on-one that Izzy wasn’t allowed into the Citadel. There was a purity trial. Izzy failed because of the demon wound.” He shrugged helplessly. “I never brought it up with her because I figured she must have been crushed. You know how she is about the Iron Sisters.”

“If the wound was that bad, why did Aldertree put her in charge of the mission in the first place?”

Jace grimaced. “That’s what I’m saying. He wouldn’t have. Unless Izzy found a way to convince him she was healed.”

“ _Yin fen_.” Alec scrubbed his hands down his face. “You really think Izzy would do that? I mean, she’d know the dangers better than anyone.”

“Maybe she thought she could handle it,” Jace suggested. “If she thought it would be just temporary, just long enough to get to see the Adamant Citadel and then she’d stop.”

Alec tried to find some argument against Jace’s logic and came up blank. “So we need to figure out which vampire—” The rapid click of heels in the hallway outside and the sharp knock on his door interrupted his train of thought, then the door swung open almost before he could call out permission to enter.

His mother stood in the doorway, her posture rigid with fury, and his grim-faced father a step behind her.

“I guess the invitations have gone out,” he muttered, and stood, turning to Jace. “See if you can find any leads on that thing we were discussing and I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You going to be okay?” Jace asked.

Alec nodded, strangely calm considering what he was facing. “Yeah, I’ve got this. Let me know what you discover.”

“I will.” Jace clapped him on the shoulder. “Robert, Maryse,” he murmured uncomfortably as he ducked past them and closed the door behind him.

Alec clasped his hands behind his back, facing them with the desk as a barrier between them. “Mother. Father. You’ve actually left Idris. Together, even. Come in. Have a seat.”

Maryse gave him an incredulous look. “‘Have a seat?’ Is that all you have to say?” She flung the gold-embossed invitation down on his desk. “Alec, what is the meaning of this?”

“Unless Magnus changed the invitations since I last saw them, I’d say it’s fairly self-explanatory.”

“ _Magnus Bane_?” She imbued the name with enough derision that Alec’s temper began a slow simmer.

“Yes. Magnus Bane. High Warlock of Brooklyn. He’s been a valuable ally to this Institute for decades. He helped us fight Valentine, which is frankly more than I can say for either of you.” Alec dropped back into his chair, a pointed refusal to stand at attention while she railed at him. “He even saved my life. So maybe you should be a little more respectful when you’re talking about _the man I’m going to marry_.”

“I can’t believe you.” Maryse stormed forward, bracing her hands on the desk as though she thought she could intimidate him by looming over him. “Cancelling your wedding to Lydia was bad enough. It was an embarrassment, and it strained relations with the Branwells, but it was nothing we couldn’t recover from. Your interest in men—well, it would have been one thing if you’d chosen a Shadowhunter, but a warlock? Particularly _this_ warlock...Alec, you will be ruined, and you’ll destroy what’s left of this family’s credibility.”

“Really,” Alec said flatly. “Our credibility with whom? With the Clave, who sat on their asses in Idris, patting themselves on the back for commissioning a task force that did exactly nothing to stop Valentine? Or with the people here in New York, the Shadowhunters in _this_ Institute and the Downworlders we’re supposed to defend? Because those are the people who lost their friends and loved ones trying to stop Valentine. Those are the people whose opinion matters to me.”

Robert held up a hand. “Alec, you have to understand, Magnus Bane has a certain reputation, even for a warlock. He—”

“I know his reputation. I also know _him_.” Perhaps that wasn’t _entirely_ true, but they were getting there and his parents didn't need to know the details of that process. "Look, you're welcome to come to the wedding, but I'm marrying Magnus with or without your approval. Now, I have work to do." He jammed a finger harder than necessary into the keyboard to bring the computer out of standby. "Thanks to Valentine, we're short staffed, so if you intend to stay more than a day, I expect you to help with the patrol rotation. See Jace, and he'll make sure you're added to the schedule."

* * *

“Alexander?” Magnus looked over his shoulder at his living room, which was still unquestionably lit by daylight. “You’re early.”

“My parents arrived today.” Alec shrugged off his jacket as Magnus shut the door behind him.

“Did I forget to warn you the invitations were going out?”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Well, I knew they had to descend on me sooner or later.”

"Just how unpleasant was it?" Magnus asked carefully, following Alec to the sofa. He brought one leg up to curl under him, propping an elbow on the back of the couch to face Alec fully.

“Strangely, not too bad. Mostly I think because I just didn’t care.” One corner of Alec’s mouth lifted in a wry half-smile. “Not sure if that’s something like personal growth or if I’m just too tired with too many other things on my mind.”

Magnus reached along the back of the sofa to stroke Alec’s shoulder. “More than the usual?”

“It’s Izzy. We couldn’t find any record of an investigation into the Downworld drug trade, so now Jace thinks maybe she might—”

“—Be hooked on _yin fen_?” Magnus pulled his hand back, closing his eyes. “I was afraid that might be the case.”

"What? You knew and didn't say anything?" Alec's voice rose sharply, and the sofa jostled as he rose.

"I didn't know for sure, and I didn't want to make a false accusation," Magnus explained, rising quickly with his hands in the air. The rug beneath his feet suddenly felt like slick, shifting sand. One wrong step could send them both sliding into disaster. "Alexander, please understand. I think very highly of Isabelle. And she had a perfectly plausible excuse that night at the Hunter's Moon, so I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. But then I found out she was seeing Raphael."

Anger and betrayal blazed in Alec’s eyes. “ _What_? Why didn’t you mention that?”

“When you told me your concerns about her, our engagement was still very new. If I’d turned out to be wrong, I might have ruined our chances of making it work, and thus ruined the chances of getting the Seelies to consider your treaty.”

Alec spun away from Magnus, pacing the room in heavy strides. He didn’t say anything until he’d made several passes.

“Could she have been going to Raphael for information about the investigation?” he asked with so much hope in his voice that Magnus hated to crush it.

“I _suppose_ that’s possible, but I can’t think of any reason why he’d smell of her perfume.”

Alec’s incredulous expression might have been comical, under other circumstances. “You can’t think of _any_ reason? Seriously?”

Magnus sighed. “That’s...not very likely. Not with Raphael. But then again, I’d thought his feeding on a Shadowhunter, or any living person, wasn’t likely either.”

Alec’s jaw clenched. “Well, if he’s feeding on my sister, I’m going to kill him.”

Magnus scurried to place himself between Alec and the door. “You _cannot_ go storming over to the Hotel Dumort in a rage to confront Raphael about this.”

“Really? Watch me.”

Alec sidestepped him. He had the doorknob in his hand when Magnus shouted, "Alec, stop!" Magnus drew a deep breath and brought his voice back down, trying for a reasonable tone. "If you mishandle this, you will lose _any_ chance of the vampire clans signing the treaty. You’ll be violating an armistice you yourself negotiated. Is that what you want?”

“Magnus, I can’t even begin to care about politics right now. This is my family!”

“ _Yes_. Your family. Who will be on the front lines of a war against the entire Downworld unless you stop and think this through." Alec glared at him, and Magnus met his eyes without flinching. "What happened to all your heartfelt claims about being willing to do anything to stop another massacre, Alexander? Are you really ready to throw that all aside because one vamp set his fangs into your sister?"

“What am I supposed to do?” Alec’s voice broke, just the smallest bit, but hearing it felt like a knife in Magnus’s chest. “Just let this go on? I need to help her.”

“And we will find a way to do that,” Magnus vowed, softening his tone. “Just—let _me_ speak to Raphael. Alone. I suspect he and Isabelle aren't even seeing each other anymore; if they were, Meliorn almost certainly would have used the knowledge to throw everyone off their game at the summit."

Alec didn’t answer right away. He made several more trips around the room, agitated as a caged tiger. Magnus’s heart sank. In the week since their engagement, Magnus’s home had seemed to be someplace Alec felt relaxed and safe.

Apparently, that wasn't the case anymore.

"Fine. Do it," Alec snarled at last. He made a few more anxious circuits, then grabbed his jacket and strode for the door. "I can't be here right now," he announced, and then he was gone, leaving Magnus alone in echoing silence.

* * *

"I'm pretty sure this isn't one of the sites you were assigned to check out tonight," Alec snapped as soon as he heard the familiar sound of his mother's brisk strides approaching. She was dressed for patrolling, a sheath strapped to her thigh over black leggings, a bow slung on her back. Her heels were lower and broader, and yet he'd know the rhythm of her footfalls anywhere.

How old had he been when he learned to dread that sound? When the knowledge that she was approaching had begun to catapult his heart into his throat and caused him to inventory every possible mistake he might have made that day before she could spring them all on him unawares?

“Dad’s not patrolling with you?” he asked before she had a chance to launch whatever tirade she had prepared.

“Your father has returned to Idris,” Maryse replied, her back rigid. “He seemed to be under the impression that there was nothing left to discuss here.”

Alec sucked on his cheek for a moment. “Well, he’s not wrong. Will he be coming back for the wedding?”

“Alec, you can’t be serious about this.”

"I'm damn sure not laughing." He kept his voice level; if he got worked up in her presence her all this business about Izzy would come spilling out, and she absolutely _could not_ find out about that.

The padlocked door of the abandoned warehouse he’d come to investigate loomed before them. He gestured Maryse forward to draw the Unlock rune, nocking an arrow to take aim over her shoulder. “When’s the last time you were out in the field?”

“Too long. I’ve actually enjoyed myself tonight.” She etched the rune with swift, confident strokes of her stele and stepped quickly aside when the door swung open. “Alec, about that warlock—”

"Forgotten his name already?" He stared down the shaft of his arrow until he was certain nothing lurked in the shadows. "You know that we're so understaffed that he's been patrolling with me? I get that the Clave is committed to letting us crash and burn completely before they waltz in to pick up the pieces, but you have to wonder just how unprotected they intend to leave the mundanes here in New York before they stop even paying lip service to honoring the Covenant and the Accords."

Maryse scoffed, pulling her bow off her shoulder and holding it down at her side, an arrow threaded loosely through her fingers. “And you think marrying _Magnus Bane_ is going to help convince them to lend their support?”

“I don’t give a damn about their support. I intend to succeed without it.” He fell silent, listening for any sound of demons in the warehouse.

“Alec, you have a duty to obey the Clave—”

"I have a duty to uphold the Law. That's not the same thing. The Law says I have to protect mundanes and Downworlders who honor the Accords. This Institute has been failing in both regards for years, since long before Lydia arrived to take over from you." He shot her a sideways look. "So if we're talking about duty, let's talk about that. Let's talk about the point at which kissing the Clave's ass became more important than you and dad doing _your_ duty.”

“You don’t know what it was like after we left the Circle. You don’t know what would have happened to us if we’d made waves.”

“And not making waves included paying no attention while mundanes were murdered in rogue vampire dens created by the actual _leader_ of the Brooklyn clan, and a warlock baby mill where mundane women were trapped into being impregnated by a demon flourished right under your noses?”

Maryse closed her eyes for a moment. “We _had_ to let the Downworlders get away with far more than we should have, to avoid looking like we still upheld Valentine’s philosophies.”

“Well, guess who we have to thank for turning the Downworlders responsible for all that over to the Clave?” Alec stopped and bent down until he was right in her face. “Magnus Bane.”

"Alec—" Noise on the upper level of the warehouse interrupted her. Alec instantly had his bow up, sighting the steep iron stairs. Beside him, Maryse did the same, her reaction speed barely slower than his. Silence fell, fractured only by their breaths as they waited for any movement to give away the intruder's location.

It came in a flurry, a nimble form leaping down the stairs, a whip cracking and glinting in the dim light filtering through the dust-and-cobweb obscured windows near the roof. Alec swung his arm out, knocking Maryse’s bow away a fraction of a second before she loosed her arrow.

“ _Izzy_?”

“Alec!” She swung her hair out of her face and did a double take. “And Mom? What are you doing here?”

“Patrolling, obviously,” Maryse sniffed. “It’s good to see you, Isabelle.”

Alec could almost hear the roll of her eyes in the shadows. “Yeah, I’m sure. I didn’t know anyone else would be investigating here tonight, so I thought I’d check it out myself.”

“We’ll take a look around with you,” Alec announced, slinging his bow back over his shoulder.

“Really, that’s not necessary. I’ve got this, big brother.” Her false smile set Alec’s teeth on edge. “You should take the evening off, go see Magnus.”

Alec clenched his fists at his side. “I think we’ll stay here. Mother, check out the rest of the upper floor? I’ll finish searching down here with Izzy.”

Maryse inclined her head slightly, her lips pressed tightly together. Whether she was rankled about Izzy's reference to Magnus or Alec giving her orders, Alec couldn't say. When she was out of earshot, he grabbed Izzy's elbow and leaned in close.

“Where’s the vampire?”

He felt Izzy flinch, though her voice was light and amused. “The what?”

“I know about the _yin fen_ ,” he gritted in her ear. “Now where is he?”

She jerked her elbow out of his grasp and spun to face him, eyes narrowed. “You know about the _yin fen_ ,” she repeated flatly. “So, what? You think I’m here meeting a vampire to score some venom?”

Alec folded his arms across his chest and met her glare with one of his own. “Just tell me.”

“You know _nothing_ ,” she hissed. “Get out of here, Alec, and take Mom with you. I’ve got work to do.”

Alec caught her arm before she could storm away. “No way. Not this time. Return to the Institute and stay there. When I get back, you and I are going to have a talk. That’s an order, Isabelle!” he barked when she refused to move.

She stood there a moment longer, trembling. Anger or in the early stages of withdrawal? Finally, she pursed her lips and stormed away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he waited for Maryse to return. Magnus’s name flashed on the screen.

_Please meet me at the Hotel Dumort asap. Raphael has requested to speak with you._


	7. A New Understanding

Magnus watched from one of the comfortable armchairs in Raphael’s suite at the Hotel Dumort as a vampire guard escorted a grim-faced Alec into the room.

“You asked to see me?” Alec said coldly.

“I did.” Raphael nodded a dismissal to his sentry and clasped his hands behind his back. The set of his shoulders, the angle of his head, all of it lacked his usual disdain for just about everyone. That uncharacteristic humility had been on display ever since Magnus had brought up Isabelle’s name. “Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.”

Alec met Magnus’s eyes across the room and Magnus inclined his head, pleading silently for Alec to accept the conciliatory tone in the spirit in which Raphael obviously intended it. Alec’s jaw flexed once, but he took a chair across from Magnus.

“You know something about my sister?”

"Yes." Raphael's eyes closed, his face tightening, and then he looked squarely at Alec. "I was seeing her for a time. Feeding on her. But I haven't been for months, not since the night of the massacre. When I nearly killed her."

Alec’s head jerked back as though he’d been slapped. His voice rose sharply. “You what?”

Magnus held up a hand. “Let him finish, Alec. Please.”

Raphael closed his eyes again, his lips moving silently in what Magnus knew was a prayer. “I happened across Isabelle about a week before the massacre. She was suffering _yin fen_ withdrawal; Aldertree had given it to her, got her hooked. She begged me for some venom. I have no excuse for what I did, except that I hated to see her in pain."

“You fed off her. You _kept_ feeding off her, knowing you were just going to make it worse,” Alec accused.

“Yes.” Raphael hung his head, but he didn’t try to shy away from the truth. “We were each hooked on the other. We knew we needed to stop, but we didn’t. And the night of the massacre, I fed too much.”

Alec winced, and Magnus couldn’t blame him. He felt ill himself over what might have happened, and what it would have done to Raphael if the worst had come to pass.

After a moment, Alec drew a deep breath. “That’s why she wasn’t there that night.”

"And also why my clan wasn't there." Raphael gave him a rueful look. "I had actually intended to go hunting for Clary, to stop her from activating the sword. But once I realized what I'd done, I spent the night tending to Isabelle instead. I transfused her from Camille's leftover supply of mundane blood, and by morning she had improved." Raphael's shoulders straightened a little at that, as though a burden had been lifted off them by confessing it. A Catholic boy to the bone. "We had a long conversation about how bad things might have gone, and we decided to stop seeing each other and sweat it out. As far as I knew until tonight, she'd stuck to that plan."

Alec massaged his forehead for a moment, tension still quivering visibly in every muscle of his body. Magnus suspected he was still clamping down on the urge to launch himself from his chair and beat Raphael to a pulp. “She’s found another source. I need to know who.”

"I'd like to know that myself," Raphael said, his voice going cold. "After my…failure to control myself, and that near-disaster, I implemented stricter rules and harsher penalties for all my people about feeding on mortals. Especially those with particularly potent blood like Shadowhunters. If someone is disobeying, I intend to deal with them."

Alec surged to his feet. “Then I know where to start looking.”

* * *

Alec couldn’t bring himself to meet Magnus’s eyes for too long as they made their way to the warehouse where he’d found Izzy earlier that night. If he did, he might give in to the urge to grovel for forgiveness for the way he’d lashed out at Magnus and then run off. He kept his mind on the mission, coming to a stop beside Raphael as he lifted his nose and inhaled.

“Blood. Rotten flesh. It’s coming from beneath us. There’s a cellar here somewhere,” Raphael announced.

“The stairs down must be hidden; we didn’t find them when I checked this place out earlier.” Alec pulled out his witchlight. “Any idea what’s down there?”

Raphael grimaced. “I don’t think it’s one of my people. But whoever it is, Isabelle is with them.”

The door to the basement stood open; the stack of pallets that hid it had been moved aside. They were halfway down the stairs when a pained moan, unmistakably feminine, echoed off the musty cinderblock walls. With his vampire speed, Raphael streaked to the bottom and disappeared. Alec charged after him with Magnus at his heels.

The basement was a labyrinthine mess of rusted machinery. They had to pick their way carefully through it all, trying to follow the anguished cries and whimpers that bounced and echoed. Eventually, they found their way to the boiler room, where Raphael stood in the doorway, staring inside.

The vampire shackled to a support beam had undoubtedly been one of Valentine's test subjects. Like the goblin Alec and Magnus had found days before, her face was a horror of dark, spidery veins pulsing with demon blood and venom. She'd been mutilated at some point; the scars were long since healed over, but they twisted her features into misshapen blobs. It looked as though a seraph blade had been pressed against her flesh, over and over.

She clawed at the air with gnarled, singed fingers, pleading with Izzy, who stood just out of reach.

“Let me die! Please!” The scarring on her lips—possibly even her tongue?—slurred her words.

“I can’t. Not yet. Please, you need to feed,” Izzy said, her eyes shining with tears as she offered a bag of blood to the vampire.

“No!” The vampire turned her face away. Her voice began rising and falling in a sing-song chant. “ _Shining children of angels all the same...Offer life just to give more pain…_ ”

Izzy shook her head vehemently. “I’m not like them. I won’t hurt you, I swear, I just need you to tell me again what you heard.”

“A _ll the same...all the same...all the same...you tell the truth but they won’t hear, whisper more poison into your ear…_ ” Her clotted voice broke on a sob. “Unlock the chain, Shadowhunter. Let me walk into the sun. _Please_.”

“I’ve got blood for you,” Izzy entreated. “Real blood. You don’t have to feed on rats. You’ll feel better.”

“Feel better when I’m dead,” the vampire said with a grating chuckle. “Nothing more to tell, angel child. Let me die.”

“I just need a name! Why can’t you remember!” The vampire flinched away and began chanting nonsense as Izzy’s voice rose.

Alec gulped against a surge of nausea. “Izzy, what are you doing?”

Izzy’s face turned white as she startled and dropped the blood.

"Can't you see she's in pain?" At that moment, his own sister seemed a complete stranger. "Why would you do this to her?"

"She knows, Alec," Izzy said desperately, her face drawn as though she were appalled by what she was doing. "She knows who it is."

“Who?” Alec demanded. He felt movement beside him, caught the glow of Magnus’s magic out of the corner of his eye, heard him murmuring about easing the vampire’s pain, but his attention was all for Izzy. “What could she know that would be worth imprisoning her, forcing her to suffer? Izzy, this is _torture_!”

"She knows who Valentine had inside the Institute. Someone helped him that night. Someone told him that Magnus created the wards, so he knew whose spell-book to steal." Izzy shoved her hair back violently, her eyes wild. "I've been taking care of her for weeks, but she won't give me a name. I _know_ she knows. She’s Aldertree’s source of vampire venom.”

“For the _yin fen_?”

“I always wondered what a respected Clave suckass was doing with _yin fen_.” She gestured to the mass of exsanguinated rat corpses scattered across the floor. “After I found her one night on patrol, I took a sample of her venom and ran a DNA comparison against residue I swabbed out of Aldertree’s empty tin before he left for Idris. It was a match.”

“Izzy—” Alec covered his face for a moment, as though shutting out sight might shut out awareness of what she’d been doing. Izzy, who had risked her life to save a Downworlder from torture once. “You’re not—This isn’t—You can’t justify this!”

“Someone betrayed us. It might even have been Aldertree himself. And _she_ knows who it is.”

“ _It doesn’t matter_. Do you know what you’ve done here? Holding a Downworlder against her will with no cause? Keeping her in pain while you interrogate her? If the Downworld factions find out about this, any hope I have of negotiating peace is gone. Do you get that? We’ll be at war.”

“Alec, did you hear me?” she snapped. “Aldertree might have been a traitor!”

“How do you know? Did this vampire ever see him?”

Izzy shook her head. “No. But he may have been disguised. She heard Valentine talking to _someone_ who knew the inner workings of the Institute. I just need her to remember the name.”

“Look at her,” Alec pleaded. “After what Valentine did to her, she’s lucky if she can remember her own name. These Downworlders that Valentine experimented on, they’re ill and they’re insane. She can’t help you.”

“Or maybe she’s just holding out.”

“Or maybe _you_ just want Aldertree to be guilty, so you have someone to blame because you were so eager to see the Iron Sisters that you accepted the _yin fen_ from him when you know damn well how dangerous it is. You’re smarter than that, Izzy!”

She looked so stricken that Alec might as well have slapped her. But at least now she was finally listening. Alec pressed his point while he still had her attention. “There could be other explanations. She might have heard Valentine talking to Hodge for all we know. And Aldertree could have gotten the _yin fen_ from a third party, or fourth or _fifth_ party. If there’s a traitor in the Institute, we will find them. But not by tormenting Valentine’s victims.”

“Isabelle.” Raphael had been so silent, Alec had forgotten he was there until he spoke, his voice so tender it felt almost intrusive to hear it. “This isn’t the way to atone for not being there when they needed us that night.”

Alec’s heart broke as Izzy’s face crumpled. He crushed her to his chest, clutching her tightly. “I’m sorry!” she sobbed, her voice trailing off to a pitiful, plaintive whisper. She turned her face toward the mewling vampire. “Oh, god, I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…”

He kissed her hair and rocked her gently back and forth. Raphael produced a wooden stake from his inner pocket, and Alec moved, interposing his body between Izzy and both vampires. Raphael murmured a soft prayer in Latin, and a moment later, the maddened chanting and agonized whimpers went silent.

* * *

They took the time to deliver Isabelle back to the Institute and then portalled to Magnus’s loft. It was earlier than usual for Alec to be done for the night, but he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. And though they’d just come in from the outdoors, Alec retreated to the balcony before Magnus could even offer him a drink.

Magnus stared at his rigid spine and stooped shoulders for a long moment before joining him there.

“I’m sorry, Magnus,” Alec murmured, gripping the railing.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I lashed out at you. Again. I keep doing that.” He tipped his head back, turning his face to the sky. “ _Why_ do I keep doing that?”

“You Nephilim lead such short, accelerated lives. You mature very young. Perhaps too young, but then I’ve never agreed with the Clave’s use of children as soldiers.” Magnus swallowed thickly, laying his hand over Alec’s. “If you were mundane, you’d probably be sitting in the corner of a frat party tonight, trying to decide if you were amused or annoyed by Jace and Isabelle’s drunken antics. But instead, look at all your accomplishments, and the burdens you all shoulder. You’re responsible not just for your family, or the Institute, but for the protection of literally millions of mundanes.”

“That’s no excuse,” Alec replied, regret heavy in his voice.

“No, it’s not. And you can consider this your official warning: I will not be a convenient target whenever you don’t know what to do with your frustrations.” Alec looked down at him and nodded once, his face somber. Magnus held his gaze unflinching, until he was sure Alec knew just how serious he was on that point. “That said, perhaps you need to try to adapt your worldview enough to accept that you’re going to have—that you _already have_ —someone who wants to help make those burdens easier to bear.”

Alec’s eyes widened, and a soft, astonished smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I, uh—” He cleared his throat. “I guess that’s in the job description, isn’t it?”

Magnus shrugged lightly, reaching out to straighten Alec’s collar. “Sometimes work becomes a pleasure.”

Alec’s smile widened, lighting up his face, and Magnus couldn’t help but slide his hand behind Alec’s neck to draw him down for a kiss. Alec moaned, yielding, allowing Magnus explore his mouth at his leisure. 

But only for a moment.

Then Alec's hands cupped Magnus's face, and he dove into the kiss, seizing control of it with a hunger that soon had Magnus's hands gripping tight handfuls of Alec's shirt, dragging him closer. One of Alec's knees nudged at the juncture of Magnus's thighs, and Magnus widened his stance, letting Alec's leg insinuate itself between his.

Alec’s breath hitched when Magnus rubbed against him, seeking just a little pressure to against his increasingly snug fly. He went still for a moment, and then one of his hands dropped down to Magnus’s backside, urging him on with a firm grip.

“Inside,” Magnus muttered when he finally drew away for breath. Alec, apparently, was beyond the need for oxygen, because his lips skimmed down Magnus’s jaw to his throat, pressing hot, sucking kisses on every inch of skin he could reach.

Alec made a grumbly sound. “That would mean stopping long enough to move.”

"Yes, but if my knees buckle, I'll go tumbling right over this railing and, honestly, if I'm going to meet my death by misadventure I'd rather it be far more debauched."

Alec fell silent for a moment and then his shoulders began to bounce as he buried his face in Magnus’s neck and laughed. Chuckling, Magnus slipped out of his grasp and retreated through the open French doors.

Alec caught up to him by the time he reached the couch, long arms like snares wrapping around Magnus and turning him in his tracks. Alec's hands gripped his ass and hiked Magnus up the few inches it took to have him perched on the back of the sofa. Balanced precariously, Magnus clutched at Alec's shoulders, his thighs bracketing Alec's hips. Pressed firmly groin-to-groin, they groaned together.

Alec’s hands were everywhere, but his lips never strayed far from Magnus’s. Magnus slipped one hand up the back of Alec’s shirt, needing skin beneath his fingers as Alec rocked restlessly against him.

“Magnus, I want you,” Alec rasped.

Magnus smiled against Alec’s mouth, his other hand dipping down to palm Alec’s thick erection through his jeans. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Alec growled softly and kissed him harder, both hands cupping and squeezing Magnus’s ass. “Now. Tonight.”

"We're not waiting for the honeymoon?" He licked his way down the rune on Alec's neck, rubbing a little harder, until Alec was thrusting against his hand.

“Why would I want that?” Alec panted.

“Maybe _I_ would like to hold off until our wedding night to deflower you properly." It took an effort to keep his voice neutral enough to make Alec pause and pull away, studying Magnus intently.

The corner of Magnus’s mouth twitched, though, and gave the game away. “You don’t really care about that,” Alec chuckled.

“Not even a little.” Magnus grinned and stroked Alec’s denim-covered cock again. “Take off your shirt.”

Alec shuddered and pulled away, whipping his shirt over his head. Magnus slipped down off the back of the sofa and prowled toward him, driving Alec back a step at a time until he bumped up against one of the brick columns. He looked…vulnerable, pinned there. Eyes wide, breath shallow. Eager, but undoubtedly aware that he faced the unknown.

Magnus swept his hands up Alec’s chest, sliding over silky hair and dark, bold runes. Alec curled his fingers around Magnus’s wrists, holding his hands trapped between them. His open palms covered Alec’s nipples, moving just enough to give a little friction as he met Alec’s lips. The mood shifted, lighthearted lust turning unexpectedly gentle.

"Your kisses are amazing. So honest," Magnus whispered when they parted again. Alec's gaze tried to slide away from his, but Magnus laid a hand on his jaw until it returned. Alec's heartbeat thudded beneath Magnus's other hand, its rhythm tripping when Magnus continued, "I could kiss you all night."

Alec closed his eyes and let his head fall back, his expression rapturous even as he pleaded, “Tell me you want to do more than that.”

“So much more,” Magnus promised, and caught Alec’s hand, leading him the final few paces to the bedroom.


	8. A Fresh Perspective

Magnus moved above him, and the _heat_ of being inside him was unlike anything Alec could ever have imagined. Scents blended together in a heady melange that saturated Alec’s senses; sweat, musk, the herbs Magnus kept for his potions, Magnus’s faintly spicy cologne and hair products.

Magnus’s skin was slick against his and Alec couldn’t touch him _enough_ , had never known it was possible to need someone’s flesh under his hands this way.

Somewhere along the way, the mantra of _this is really happening_ looping in his head had transformed to _this is amazing_. His heart pounded and his breath came in labored pants as he struggled to hang on for just a minute longer. Sweat slicked his skin and the muscles in his thighs strained as his hips shot up to meet Magnus's rhythm

Magnus began moving faster, and the entire world was reduced to nothing more than here and now, this isolated bubble filled with sensation. A bead of sweat ran down his brow as he leaned down to kiss Alec again, a hungry, sloppy kiss that neither of them could maintain for long. He took Alec's hand and wrapped it around his cock, guiding him up and down until Alec mastered the speed and pressure he preferred.

“Perfect,” Magnus gasped. “So good…Right there…Alexander, that’s perfect.”

Each word of praise brought Alec a little closer to the brink. Each stroke made Magnus get harder in his hand, and it _was_ perfect. It was beyond perfect. And then…

…someone rapped loudly on his door. Alec's eyes popped open. How long he'd been daydreaming this time, he had no idea. The whole day had been weirdly unfocused, time telescoping in and out as he repeatedly lost track of whatever he was supposed to be doing and became overwhelmed by memories of last night.

He cleared his throat and wiped beads of sweat off his upper lip, grateful for the concealing presence of the desk. A deep breath, and then another, until he could be reasonably confident he could project the competence required of the Head of the Institute rather than wearing a neon sign above his head announcing _I got epically laid last night_.

“Enter.”

Izzy seemed a little smaller than usual as she slipped inside his office, her hands restlessly smoothing her immaculate skirt. She looked sad and…not broken, but definitely more defeated than he’d ever seen her before.

“Hey. Did you get some rest last night?”

“Some.” She perched on a chair across the desk from him, with the rigid posture he typically only saw her use when their parents were calling them on the carpet for something. “I don’t know what to say, Alec.”

“There’s nothing to say.” He shook his head, shrugging. “It’s done now. Isn’t it?”

She nodded, her eyes downcast. "I swear the last time I let a vampire feed on me was that night of the massacre. I've been clean for nearly three months now."

“I can’t believe you were detoxing right under my nose and I didn’t see it.”

She rubbed her palms on her skirt again. “I just hid out in my room. You were busy with the transition, taking over from Aldertree, picking up all the pieces and placating the Downworlders. I banked on that.”

“I thought you were grieving,” he said in bewilderment. “Izzy—since when do we shut each other out like that?”

She scoffed. “Alec, you almost abandoned me. I know you had to try to find Jace, but you risked dying and leaving me all alone to do it.”

“Is that why—” When he closed his eyes he could still see it all too clearly, her unnaturally black eyes and inhuman smile.

_I’m done living in your shadow._

“The demon fed on anger, resentment. And when it got to you, you came after me.”

She shrugged uncomfortably. “Shutting you out seemed like the safer option. For a lot of reasons.”

“Such as?”

“Aldertree wanted me to spy on Clary. He all but threatened to withhold the _yin fen_ if I didn’t agree to report back to him about her.” She relaxed back in her chair a little. Not her usual casual sprawl, but still, he was far too happy just to see that little shift as her posture softened. “I think that’s when I started to get that I was in trouble. And that sooner or later he might want me to report on you.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Alec grabbed his phone off the desk and fired off a quick text, and then an email. “We’re going to figure this out.”

A moment later, Jace poked his head into the office, waggling his phone. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, come in. Bring Clary with you if she’s out there.” Jace stepped in with Clary on his heels. She gave Alec a wary look, which never failed to make another surge of guilt tighten his throat. She was never anything but civil to him, yet he knew things still weren’t put to rights between them.

Mostly, they just stayed out of each other’s way.

“What’s up?” Jace asked, sitting on the corner of Alec’s desk as Clary took the chair beside Izzy.

“Aldertree.” Alec reached for his computer and called up a file. “We need to collate what we all know about his activities while he was Head of the Institute. Something’s not adding up here.”

“Not adding up?” Clary frowned. “What is it you’re looking for? He was a jerk. Like, he always seemed sort of smarmy, but that’s pretty much it?”

“No, it’s more than that.” Izzy sighed and looked squarely at Jace. “Aldertree gave me _yin fen_. I accepted it, knowing the risks, and that’s on me. Still, it’s a proscribed substance, super addictive, with harsh penalties imposed for anyone trafficking it,” she added for Clary’s benefit. “Imagine a mundane doctor giving patients crystal meth and calling it medicine. That’s what we’re talking about.”

Clary’s eyes went huge. “Oh, my God. Izzy, are you okay?”

“I am now,” Izzy said with a small smile. “It was bad for a while. I thought I could handle it, but I couldn’t. And Aldertree gave it to me knowing I’d get hooked. He tried to use it to blackmail me.”

“Right.” Alec looked up from the computer where he was compiling a list. “And we know that the _yin fen_ Aldertree supplied to Izzy was made using vampire venom from one of Valentine’s test subjects.”

"Whoa." Jace reared back in surprise. "No way that's a coincidence."

Izzy grimaced. “Tell me about it.”

“Coincidence isn’t _proof_ ," Alec said severely. "Not enough to sell to the Clave, who aren't going to be very inclined to listen to us, to begin with. We need more."

“Raphael told me Aldertree tortured him,” Izzy said.

Alec grimaced. “Magnus mentioned that. You think the Clave will care?”

Jace shook his head. “They’ll probably be more concerned about the _yin fen_ than breaking the Accords and torturing a Downworlder.”

“There is one thing.” Alec turned his computer around to show them. “This is the log of official correspondence received and sent by the Head of the Institute to Downworld leaders. As you can see, except for a few summonses, including one to Raphael, it’s empty. Which is interesting because Magnus sent Aldertree a message notifying him that his book of counter-spells had been stolen and the Institute’s wards were vulnerable. Aldertree never logged it.”

“He should have immediately gotten another warlock in to reinforce the wards,” Izzy said. “Magnus probably even recommended a couple, I’d bet.”

“Unless Aldertree was trying to leave the door standing wide open,” Clary concluded.

Jace added something, while Alec searched his memory of the last time he and Magnus had discussed the subject of the wards and Aldertree. That was the night he’d first kissed Magnus, and any conversation they’d had then was a bit hazy, overwhelmed by memories of how Magnus had tasted and smelled, how his bristly goatee had rubbed against Alec’s lips and—

“—Right, Alec?”

“Right.” He jerked back into the present to find Jace side-eying him. Alec quickly looked away. “I’m waiting for a response from Lydia. I sent her an email asking if she knows anything about Aldertree’s activities since he brought Valentine back to Idris. In the meantime, Izzy, tell us more about what the vampire had to say.”

She drew a deep breath, as though steadying herself. "Well, it was hard getting her to make sense, but she seemed to think Valentine met with someone from the Institute. If I understood some of her rantings properly, they specifically talked about the power core and its vulnerabilities."

Alec frowned. “Do you know if they mentioned the access panel on the roof?”

“I don’t know, sorry.”

“What about the access panel?” Jace asked.

"When the Institute was under attack, we couldn't get to this office to shut the power core down, so Aldertree took me to the roof. He said he knew the backdoor algorithms and could gain access, but then we were up there forever. He couldn't get in."

Jace snorted. “How much you wanna bet if you went up there now you’d be able to hack in without a problem.”

“So he could have been delaying you,” Izzy said.

“Yep. Even had a tragic anecdote to pass the time with.”

Her face tightened. “I should have been here. I could have—”

Alec waved her to silence before she could gather speed. “No. We’re not doing that.”

“Here’s a question,” Clary interjected with a thoughtful look. “Clearly Valentine already knew about the Soul Sword being a weapon of mass destruction, right? How could he have known that, if it was a secret held only by the Iron Sisters? There must be other Shadowhunters, maybe high-ranking members of the Clave, who knew the secret.”

“Unless Ithuriel showed him?” Jace said. “But Ithuriel wouldn’t have given him that information willingly. He showed us how to destroy the sword because we helped him; is it possible to force an angel to show you a vision?”

“I doubt it, but—”

Whatever Clary was saying faded into the background as Alec recalled the night Jace and Clary had encountered Ithuriel. It was the first night he should have spotted something was wrong with Izzy. She’d been so distracted, her face pale and exhausted. And Alec had overlooked all that after only the most cursory inquiry into her well-being.

No. He'd told Izzy they weren't going to hash over the past to find each little moment where they might have done something different. And Magnus had a point about how convincing Izzy was, how she always had an entirely plausible excuse ready. Magnus would be the first to tell Alec he couldn't blame himself. And then he'd tease Alec into a more positive frame of mind. The way he'd teased last night, with a sly grin as he rode Alec, his slick skin rippling over flexing muscles—

"Alec?" Izzy's voice broke into his thoughts, and he realized they were all staring at him.

“Sorry, I got mentally sidetracked. Say that again?”

Jace made a sound suspiciously close to a snicker and covered his mouth, his dimple popping in his cheek.

“Clary suggested that if the Clave knew about the sword, they would have told Aldertree what it could do the moment Valentine stole it. Which begs the question of why he would have needed to send me to the Adamant Citadel,” Izzy explained. “But if he already knew about my fascination with the Iron Sisters—and it wouldn’t have been hard to find out, half the Institute knew about it—it could have been a set-up all along.”

“You mean, if he knew your wound wasn’t healing, he could have dangled the mission in front of you as bait to get you to accept the _yin fen_?” Jace asked.

“Hold up. We’re not getting any closer to actual proof here,” Alec protested. “This is veering into wild supposition. We can’t start with the assumption Aldertree is guilty and then make up the evidence.”

“That’s pretty much exactly what he did to Jace,” Clary said with a snort.

“Yeah, well, we’re doing things differently now, aren’t we?” Alec shot back. “Beyond making sure we don’t railroad an innocent person, we run the risk of overlooking the real traitor, if there is one. When Lydia emails me back, I’ll be sure to ask if she knows how much—if anything—the Clave already knew about the sword. But beyond that, I think we’ve gotten as far as we can here. So let’s wrap this up. I’ve got things to do.”

“Oh, I bet,” Jace said, _sotto voce_ , as they all stood.

"Let us know when you hear from Lydia," Clary said, making her way to the door.

“You okay, Alec?” Izzy asked as she passed his desk. “You seem tired. When’s the last time you had a break?”

“I’m fine,” he said firmly, ignoring the way the corners of Jace’s mouth quivered. “I just need to get back to my reports.”

“Yeah.” Jace hopped off the corner of the desk and clapped Alec on the shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be hard at work all day.”

Alec grabbed Jace’s collar and jerked him down to mutter in his ear. “I will kill you slow. Get out.”

Jace sauntered from the room, chortling.

* * *

The next time he was interrupted, Alec actually had his mind on his work. Which was excellent, because he didn’t think he could face his mother with an erection hidden under his desk.

“Alec,” she said, after a quick rap on his door.

“Mother. Heading back to Idris?”

Her chin lifted slightly. “No. I’ll stay here until your…wedding. Your father will return the morning of to attend the ceremony, as well.”

He smiled bitterly. “Yeah, I suppose it would just draw attention to the scandal if you refused to attend, wouldn’t it?”

She opened her mouth to speak, then paused, drew a breath, and appeared to say something else instead. “Believe it or not, I am genuinely concerned for your happiness, Alec.”

“Really? Where was that concern when you wanted me to marry some strategically-selected woman with a sterling name?”

Maryse sighed and sat across from him. “If I’d understood the situation, I would have made different choices then. I apologize for that, for assuming I knew who you were and what you wanted from life. In my defense, however, you weren’t exactly forthcoming on that front.”

“ _Life’s not about what you want to do, it’s about what must be done._ ” She flinched when he flung her own words back at her. “How old was I when you started drilling that philosophy into my head? If I wasn’t honest about who I really was, maybe it’s because I had good reason to believe that who I was wouldn’t be acceptable.”

“I never meant to teach you that you had to sacrifice _everything_ for duty.” She blinked rapidly. “I can see how I failed there. Our duty is immense, yes, and sometimes personal preference is of secondary importance. But I didn’t understand just how unhappy you were until you told us that Lydia saved your life by being so gracious about calling off the wedding.”

Alec grimaced. “And now you’re not convinced I can be happy with a Downworlder.”

Maryse pressed her fingers to her forehead. “What do you want me to say, Alec? That I believe these part-demon _creatures_ are our equals? I don’t.”

“Well, you’re honest about it, I’ll give you that much.” Alec shook his head in disgust. “They’re people with souls, just trying to live their lives. Just because they have a demon parent or a demonic disease doesn’t mean—”

"They are predators who would happily kill if they didn't have to face the consequences of failing to keep their impulses in check. That is why vampire dens such as the ones you chastised me for missing can flourish," she argued. "And a warlock can only exist because a demon raped or coerced or deceived a mundane. Like the Fair Folk, their demon blood and immortality divorce them from any true humanity."

Clenching his jaw, Alec shoved his chair back and rose. “Enough. I want you to come with me.”

* * *

Catarina Loss’s eyes went from warm to cool when she opened the door to see Alec standing there beside his mother.

“Alec. Maryse. What brings you here today?”

“Ms. Loss,” Maryse greeted just as stiffly.

“Catarina, I was hoping to visit Madzie again, if that’s okay with you?” Catarina’s eyes flicked to Maryse, and Alec added quickly, “Purely personal. This isn’t related to Clave business at all. I won’t let anything upset her, I promise.”

“Very well.” Catarina stepped back to allow them inside, clearly still struggling with her reservations. In the foyer, Madzie stood far back, watching the newcomer warily.

Alec squatted and offered her a smile. "Hey, Madzie. I came back to play some more."

Her gaze darted to Maryse and then back to Alec, and she held her silence, the same way she had when Alec first met her.

“This is my mom. Her name is Maryse.”

“Hello, Madzie.” His mother’s voice was as warm and gentle as he knew it would be. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. That’s a lovely skirt you’re wearing.”

Madzie glanced down at the multi-colored tufts of tulle and sparkles, which matched neither her tights nor her shirt, and ventured a tiny smile.

"My mom came from a long way away to visit me, but I had my heart set on visiting you, so I decided to bring her along. I thought she might want to play with us, too," Alec said. Madzie mulled that over for a moment, a furrow forming between her brows before she finally gave Alec a very truncated nod. "Great. Do you have some games we could play? We could set up on the floor of the family room like we did last time."

Madzie nodded and ran up the stairs, and Alec stood.

“She’s a warlock?” Maryse asked softly.

“Yeah.” Alec grimaced. “She’s the only one we were ever able to locate from Iris Rouse’s breeding operation. She doesn’t really like to talk unless she’s comfortable with you.”

Catarina chuckled. “She wouldn’t _stop_ talking about you after your last visit,” she said warmly. “I’m glad you came back. That kiddo’s been very sad today.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can do about that.” Alec gave her a smile and let her lead them into the living room.

It was almost dinner time when Alec and Maryse left Catarina’s house, with Alec promising he’d see Madzie at the wedding. Maryse was quiet as they walked away from the brownstone.

“Have you ever bothered to do that before?” Alec asked. “Spend time with a Downworlder when you weren’t fighting or sitting on opposite sides of a conference table, you expecting the worst of them and them expecting the worst of you and both of you getting exactly what you’re looking for?”

“No, I suppose I haven’t.” Maryse murmured. “She’s a beautiful child.”

“She is. She saved my life, you know.” He idly ran his fingers along the spiked iron tops of a fence. “Valentine used her to bring down the wards. He tricked her into killing people. But she saved me, because I smiled at her once. Just once.”

Maryse didn’t respond, so Alec continued, filling the silence while he had her listening.

“She never wanted to hurt anyone, but thanks to Valentine, she’ll grow up knowing people died because of her.” He shook his head in disgust. “So you tell me: who’s really divorced from their humanity, Mom? That sweet little girl who can’t help that her mother was tricked into being impregnated by a demon? Or someone who would use her to commit murder, or call her a _creature_?”

She winced visibly but continued to walk beside him without responding. In his peripheral vision, he saw her carefully wipe her eyes in that way she had, trying not to smudge her makeup. Finally, she took a bracing breath and straightened her shoulders.

“Alec, regardless of what opinions I may have about Downworlders—and it _is_ clear I need to do some soul searching and consider those opinions carefully—that doesn’t necessarily change my reservations about this one particular Downworlder you’ve decided to marry.” She laid a hand on his arm, stopping him until he turned to face her. “Magnus Bane—”

“—Has a reputation. Yes, I know. Dad already tried that approach.”

Maryse’s lip curled, but she gave a quick shake of her head, her expression smoothing over so fast also could almost have thought he imagined that little sneer.

“Alec, I don’t want to see you endure the—the _grief_ and humiliation of life with someone who won't offer you the same devotion and commitment that you offer to him." Her eyes shimmered, and she dabbed at the corners with her fingertips again. "Please. I'm _begging_ you. Marry a man. Marry a Downworlder, if you must. But don’t marry someone who won’t be loyal to you.”

Alec stepped back so quickly he nearly stumbled off the curb. “This isn’t about Magnus at all. Is it?” Maryse’s face tightened, her eyes squeezing shut. “Dad’s cheating on you.”

Her mouth quivered for a long moment. “Isabelle can never know,” she said finally, her voice hitching.

“That’s probably best right now for a lot of reasons,” Alec agreed. “But Mom, listen. Magnus isn’t Dad. If Dad’s having an affair, he’s a liar and hypocrite and a coward. Magnus isn’t. I need you to trust my judgment on this.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Isn’t that a chance everyone takes when they get married?” Alec asked, remembering Magnus’s words from the night they decided to get engaged. “It never comes with a guarantee.”

“True,” Maryse said with a broken huff of laughter. Alec gathered her into his arms and held on tightly, letting her cling to him. Her whole body shook with emotion, but when she pulled away, she was dry-eyed. “Come. It’ll be dark soon. We’d better get back to the Institute and get ready for patrol.”


	9. An Early Gift

An unexpected knock on his door jerked Magnus away from his appointment book and his attempts to juggle his schedule to allow for a few days free after the next day’s wedding.

Something told him just one day of honeymoon time wasn’t going to be enough.

A broad smile he was powerless to control even if he'd wanted to spread across his face when he found Alec standing on the other side of the door. "Alexander. I thought you were going to be busy tonight. Wouldn't you say we're past knocking?"

“I won’t knock after tomorrow, I promise,” Alec answered, smiling in return. Magnus had to stare a moment to reconcile the difference between the exhausted, overburdened young man who had walked into the summit less than two weeks ago and the Alec who stood before him now. He couldn’t be getting much more sleep now than he had been before, and he certainly didn’t have fewer responsibilities, but he carried all of that more lightly, and the transformation was breathtaking.

Alec leaned over to brush a light kiss on Magnus's lips, but his body language was strange. Almost as though he didn't want too much contact. He kept one arm up across his chest, not entirely concealing a lump under his jacket.

“What are you hiding under your coat?” Magnus asked cautiously.

“Well, see, I, uh—” Alec clamped his mouth shut to cut off his stammering, drew a breath through his nose, and then tried again. “Clary knows a lot more about, you know, mundane stuff than I do, so I asked her to take me to pick out a wedding present for you. But I thought it would be better to give it to you tonight, when there aren’t a lot of people around.”

Alec's voice shook with nerves, and he drew a grey long-haired tabby cat with a white muzzle and pink nose from inside his jacket, keeping her cradled close to his body. She didn't move, didn't struggle, simply held herself in a small, petrified ball, her huge eyes darting around.

“I-I-I know it’s not really the usual sort of thing for a wedding gift. They called her Mouse at the shelter, I don’t know, I guess because she’s quiet?” Alec stroked the top of her head with gentle fingers. “She, um, she sort of reminds me of Madzie a little. They think she had a family at some point, but she didn’t have one of the ID, uh, things. From her weight and the condition of her fur, she’s been living rough for a while. And she has a couple places where they had to shave her to remove, little, um…BBs. Someone shot her. So she’s tame, but she’s really nervous, and—”

"Alexander?" Alec's babble fell abruptly silent, and he looked at Magnus anxiously, as though worried his gift might somehow be unsatisfactory. "Please let me hold her before my heart absolutely breaks?"

“Right. Yeah,” Alec said breathlessly and allowed Magnus to step close and gather Mouse to his chest without jostling or dangling her. Every movement and touch sent clouds of loose fur fluttering through the air, a testament to the cat’s fear. But she purred—just a little, almost inaudibly—when Magnus scratched gently behind her ear.

“Oh, sweetheart, you just want to be left alone to settle in, don’t you?” he murmured, kissing the top of her head and getting a face full of hair that clung to his skin and goatee. “We’ll give you some space, and tomorrow I’ll make sure you have somewhere private to hide so the party won’t disturb you, I promise. No one will ever bother or hurt you again.”

He carried her into the bedroom and knelt, lowering her gently to the floor. Immediately Mouse scurried under the bed, tucking herself up against the wall beneath the headboard. With a snap of his fingers, Magnus deposited a litter pan in one nearby corner and a water dish and bowl of dry kibble in another.

“There,” he said softly to Alec, who was watching the entire thing with unreserved fascination. “Right now she just needs quiet until she starts feeling safe enough to come out. It may be a few days, so we’ll just give her time.” He caught Alec by the back of the neck and pulled him down into a quick, hard kiss. “Thank you, Alexander. She’s wonderful.”

Alec’s phone buzzed in his pocket as Magnus dimmed the lights. He pulled it out and scowled at the screen.

“Oh, hell.” He held the phone up for Magnus to see the text from Jace.

_need u at hunter’s moon asap!!!_

“Dammit, he’s probably got half of what’s left of the New York pack on his ass, ready to break the armistice,” Alec muttered, jogging for the door.

Magnus grabbed his arm, halting him. “Wait, I’ll make a portal for us.”

A moment later they emerged in the alley next to the bar to find…absolutely nothing happening that would be unusual for an ordinary Thursday night. Magnus frowned at the empty alley, into which drifted no sounds of a bar fight whatsoever.

“Guess we better go inside, see if anyone saw anything,” Alec said, but Magnus caught him before he could go more than a couple paces.

“I’m sensing a setup.” He smiled at Alec’s confused look. “Something tells me Jace is inside with a pitcher of beer and a handful of your nearest and dearest, ready to toast your last night of bachelorhood.”

Alec groaned softly. “Seriously, a bachelor party? I already did this part.”

“I should probably make myself scarce,” Magnus proposed, glancing uncertainly toward the bar, but Alec shook his head and grabbed Magnus’s hand.

“No way. If I have to endure this, I’m keeping you with me. You’ll have better drink recommendations than beer. Besides, I didn’t think I’d get much time with you tonight.”

He had to stop and just stare at Alec, only for a moment, before he could fall into step and walk inside.

* * *

The Hunter’s Moon wasn’t someplace Alec tended to go, or ever really even thought of going. The word “bar” tended to evoke thoughts of places like Pandemonium, loud and crowded and just too much of everything.

Which made the Hunter’s Moon a pleasant surprise. There wasn’t any dancing so he’d be spared that indignity, and the crowd and decibel level were both reasonable enough to allow Alec to think of more than just how quickly he could escape. It wasn’t simply him and Jace in an empty bar, like his last bachelor party, but it didn’t seem like it would be too difficult to endure.

Izzy, Jace, and Clary were seated at a table in the far back, and they all smiled brightly when they spotted him and Magnus. That was different from the last time, too. Last time, everyone had been so sober, so weighed down by the knowledge that Alec’s marriage to Lydia would be a sham. They’d all tried to smile, but it had been a thin veneer of false joy covering a travesty in the making.

Considering that this, too, was supposedly a marriage made for political purposes, Alec would have thought it would feel similar. But it wasn’t even close to the same.

Jace did indeed have a pitcher of beer, even though Clary was underage. Magnus murmured something to their half-Seelie waitress as Alec accepted a round of hugs, but before he could claim a seat, Jace caught his arm.

“They’ve got pool. You up for a game?”

Alec scoffed. “You really want to start the night out with that particular brand of humiliation?”

Jace’s eyes were bright with challenge. “Don’t know, man, you’ve got those pre-wedding jitters working against you tonight.”

“Really? When did I mention jitters?” Alec shook his head, laying the pity on thick. “Sounds like wishful thinking from a guy who’s about to get his ass kicked.”

Izzy grinned from where she was welcoming Magnus warmly. "Jace is convinced that one of these days he'll beat Alec. Usually, the only way Alec loses is if we take him two against one and he lets us go first. Even then, it's not a sure thing."

“Oh, well, this I have to see,” Magnus announced, bending his elbow for Clary to take. “Care to spectate with me?”

“Yeah, spectating only for me, thanks,” she said as they followed Alec, who in turn trailed Jace and Izzy to the pool table. “Simon and I used to play pool sometimes but I doubt could hold my own here, even with all my recently-acquired Shadowhunter badassitude.”

“Well, biscuit, maybe you and I can challenge each other for the right to play the loser.”

“Aside from keeping Jace from getting even more full of himself, I’m not hearing much incentive for me to win in that,” Alec remarked then froze, trying to decide if he was more appalled at his blatant public flirtation or his backhanded insult to Clary. “Uh, er, not to say that you might not win, Clary. That is—I just—”

“You were just macking on your hubby-to-be. Yeah, I get it. Very smooth.” She gave Alec an awkward smile as his cheeks ignited. “Anyway, you’re probably not wrong. I’m better off sitting this one out.”

“You sure?” Jace asked her, but his attention was on Alec as he chalked his cue.

Clary studied Jace with narrowed eyes, then snorted. “Oh, hell yeah. I’ve spent a lifetime seeing that same look over the Lewis’s UNO deck. Trust me, when families get that weird competitive thing going on, it’s best for everyone else to just back away slowly.”

"Well said, my dear," Magnus agreed, accepting his martini from the waitress and handing Alec something yellow, also served in a martini glass. Alec took a sip, surprised when the crystals on the rim turned out to be sugar, and the liquor within was tangy and sweet.

Izzy side-eyed the cocktail. “A lemon-drop? Really?”

Alec took a longer sip and shrugged. “It’s not bad. Maybe I’ll have a few more before we play, give you and Jace a fighting chance.”

Predictably, Jace and Izzy both protested, loudly accusing Alec of trash-talking, then they started their game. Magnus and Clary perched on barstools nearby while Alec dominated the table. It was simultaneously satisfying and embarrassing to be showing off in front of Magnus, but there was no way he could let Jace and Izzy win. He’d never hear the end of it.

They insisted that, as the losers, it was their turn to break the next game, and they managed to sink several balls before missing a shot. Alec caught Magnus's eye as he bent over the table, lining up his shot, and felt a charge run through him at Magnus's intent stare.

“Hey.” Jace snapped his fingers in front of Alec’s face. “Quit having eye-sex with your fiancé and play.”

Alec blushed and proceeded to wipe the felt with them again.

"Way to go." Izzy smacked Jace on the arm. "We could've had him if he'd been distracted, but no, you had to run your big mouth."

Jace began eyeballing Magnus speculatively as Izzy placed her cue back on the rack. "How is it you've lived centuries and never learned to play pool?"

"Did I say that?" Magnus blinked, pursing his lips. "I've devoted my attention to learning many pastimes. But it's true, some I have mastered more than others."

“Yeah? Let’s see what you can do.” Jace’s eyes didn’t twinkle quite the same way they did when he’d challenged Alec. “No magic.”

“Of course.” Magnus’s smile as he began racking the balls was far more gracious than Alec thought Jace deserved. Jace broke, sinking one striped ball, then another, with grim determination.

“What the hell is this?” Alec murmured to Izzy as Jace lined up his third shot.

She shrugged, leaning against the bar beside him. “He’s probably not comfortable threatening a Downworlder with death these days, especially where he could be overheard by other Downworlders. So he has to deliver the shovel talk using a pool cue as a metaphor.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

"Oh, let him get it out of his system," Izzy advised and refilled her glass from Jace's pitcher of beer.

Jace missed his fourth shot, and Magnus winked at Alec, then sank two solids. Jace spluttered as Magnus remarked, “I may have forgotten to mention that this is one pastime I’ve mastered particularly well,” and executed a perfect jump shot. Clary and Izzy cheered and howled on either side of Alec.

“Damn.” Alec flicked imaginary spots off his sleeves. “You need a mop for your dignity, Jace? We’re getting splatter all the way over here.”

“Yeah, thanks for the loyalty, buddy.” Jace narrowed his eyes and watched Magnus line up his next shot.

“This is bizarrely hot,” Clary breathed, holding her glass to her cheek as Jace glowered at Magnus.

“Yeah, it is,” Alec agreed as Magnus sank another ball before leaning back to survey the table. Then he choked on his drink when he realized who he’d just agreed with. Liquor and citrus seared his windpipe and Clary watched him cough with laughter in her eyes. “That never happened.”

“Never,” she vowed with mock solemnity.

He tore his gaze away from Magnus’s blithe domination of the game, gesturing to Clary’s glass. “This is too weird. You need to stop letting Jace refill your beer.”

“Nah, _you_ need to let Magnus order you more of those.” She pointed to his drink, which did appear to have been refreshed while he’d been playing pool. Another cocktail stood on the bar as well; it was sweet and peach-flavored when Alec sampled it. “We’ll drink until accidentally agreeing with each other doesn’t feel wrong anymore.”

Luke appeared behind Clary’s shoulder and plucked the beer from her hand. “How about _you_ remember you’re underage and _I_ keep the groom drinking?” With the beer in one hand, he extended the other to Alec. “Hey man, sorry I’m late. Just got done with work. Congratulations.”

"Thanks. Good to have you here." Alec accepted the handshake, trying not to laugh at the exaggerated scowl Clary gave Luke as he drained her beer. Apparently, the waitress was under standing orders from Magnus never to let Alec's glass get empty, because she appeared with another one almost immediately, this one red and tasting of cherries. "Though I'd appreciate it if _everyone_ —” he raised his voice to be sure Magnus wouldn’t miss it “—would remember that my wedding day probably isn’t the best time for a hangover.”

“I have magic for that,” Magnus called back with a distressing lack of concern.

Alec sighed and started on his new drink. It really was quite good, and it would be far too easy to overindulge.

“So what’d I miss?” Luke asked, propping an elbow on the bar beside Clary.

Izzy grinned, and for a moment Alec had to just stare because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her this animated, or Jace this cocky, or any of them just laughing and enjoying being together. “I suspect Maia finally went ahead and just bit Jace, because he’s peeing platonic circles around Alec to remind Magnus who the first man in his life is.”

“Ew,” Alec and Clary said in unison, then looked at each other in horror before Clary burst into giggles and Alec hung his head in defeat and finished his third drink in a single swallow. It hit his stomach and ignited a surge of warmth that began spreading through his body, relaxing his limbs and making it hard to remember why he was supposed to be uncomfortable around Clary.

Over his cue, Magnus caught met Alec’s eyes. “You’re next, Alexander,” he said, and proceeded to sink his shot without even looking down at the table.

Alec licked his lips, his jeans growing snug. “Oh, _you’re on_. Somebody get me another drink.”

* * *

Alec awoke the next morning with a cat forming a purring halo over his head, which had been invaded by a thousand tiny demons with mallets, banging on the inside of his skull. At his groan, Magnus lifted his head off the opposite pillow. His hair was flat on one side and sticking straight out on the other, and his sleepy eyes were surrounded by raccoon-circles of smudged liner, but his smile was as warm and gentle as the sun on a balmy spring day.

“Good morning,” he murmured, touching fingers wreathed in soft blue magic to Alec’s brow. “Let’s attend to that hangover so we can start this day off right, hmm?”

“Thank you,” Alec rasped as the demons ceased their hammering and retreated to whatever hell had spawned them. “At least I didn’t drink enough for Clary and Izzy to talk me into karaoke with Simon.”

Magnus flopped down onto his back, startling Mouse, who chirped in annoyance. “Unlike your brother. And who knew he had such a set of pipes?”

“One of his best-kept secrets.” Alec sighed. “Last night was—”

“—Surprisingly fun?”

“Yeah, but…I was going to say something closer to ‘amazing.’” Alec folded his hands on his chest, shoulder to shoulder with Magnus, staring at the ceiling. “Before Clary came along and all the stuff with Valentine started, Jace and Izzy knew how to have fun. It’s been way too long, but at least they used to do it. Me, though? I always just sat on the sidelines.”

“Why not join in?” Magnus asked.

Alec shrugged. “It’d be easy to blame all the expectations my parents had of me, but I-I think I just didn’t want to risk letting my guard down too much. If I’d gotten drunk with them at sixteen, who knows what I might have blurted out?” He snorted softly at the turn of phrase and rolled his head to the side to stare at Magnus’s profile. “But last night there was nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

Magnus turned his head to meet Alec’s gaze. “If I have any say in it, there will never be a reason to fear enjoying your time with the people you care for again.”

Alec sat up abruptly, pivoting to face Magnus fully. "Look, Magnus, this is—it's—This may sound weird. I mean, it's our wedding day. And-and I know we've done this whole thing backward. We only agreed to it because of politics, but… I'm really happy we're getting married."

Magnus reached up, his hand pressing warm and soft along Alec’s jaw. “I am, too.”

He let Magnus draw him down into a long, slow kiss. A kiss with promise but no immediate intention, despite their nude bodies pressed together. A kiss that acknowledged the things they couldn’t say yet, the things Alec was starting to suspect though it was too soon to speak of them.

“I have to go,” he murmured when they finally drew apart. “I have things I need to take care of at the Institute if I want a day or two off after the wedding.”

“I guess you’d better go then.” Magnus’s hands fell away slowly, leaving Alec’s skin tingling with the memory of their presence. “I demand a minimum of twenty-four hours of uninterrupted honeymoon time. I’m sure the five boroughs can avoid a full-scale demonic invasion at least that long.”

Alec chuckled and rolled off Magnus. “So you’re an optimist.” Standing beside the bed, he leaned over for one last kiss. “I’ll do my best.”


	10. An Impossible Dilemma

“Alec!”

He turned at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name and smiled to see Lydia striding purposefully through the ops center toward him.

“Hey! I didn’t expect to see you here today.” He shrugged awkwardly. “I mean, I know we sent an invitation and all, but when you didn’t reply to my email a few days ago, I figured it was probably all too weird.”

She folded her arms across her chest, not…angry, exactly, but neither did she really look all that happy to see him. “You know, of all the things that have crossed my desk in the past few days, the announcement that you’re marrying Magnus Bane was probably the least unexpected.”

Alec swallowed. “That…sounds ominous. I-I’m sorry if the invitation wasn’t welcome. I just—you know, I didn’t want you hearing about it from someone else, after what you did for me.”

She continued watching him with that guarded look for a moment, then slowly her posture opened up. “I think we need to talk. In private.”

“Yeah, sure.” Alec nodded tightly and gestured down the hallway toward his office.

Once the door was closed behind them, Lydia braced both hands on the back of a chair and sighed heavily. “Alec, what the hell is going on in this Institute? And before you speak, just let me say that I am not acting as a representative of the Clave, _yet_. I’m setting that aside for the moment is because I feel like I owe it to you to give you one chance to explain yourself before I have to make things official.”

“I-I wouldn’t say you owe me anything, but I’m a little confused. This isn’t about my wedding?” He sat down in one of the armchairs before the dark fireplace, unwilling to put the barrier of the desk between them. Whatever answers she was seeking from him, sitting behind the desk plastered a layer of officiousness over everything, which didn’t feel appropriate.

“Well, yes and no. Finding out you were marrying Magnus was one thing, but then I heard from various sources that the two of you threw this wedding together in less than two weeks. No one knew you had been seeing each other before that.” She took the chair beside him with a wry look. “Stop me if you’ve heard this one.”

“Wait, you still have sources here in the Institute?” Alec held up a hand before she could reply. “Never mind. Beside the point right now. If you’re asking if marrying Magnus is a political move, that’s a tricky one to answer. I mean, it is, but it’s more, too, you know?”

Lydia’s eyes said _you’ve got to be kidding me_ even as she smiled tightly and replied, “No, I don’t know. Explain it to me.”

Alec leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at his clasped hands for a moment as he weighed his words. “I’m trying to negotiate an end to the Downworld uprisings before this becomes a full-scale war. But the Seelies won’t come to the table unless I marry a Downworlder as a demonstration that the Downworlders of New York will be permitted to stand beside Shadowhunters as equals. Magnus volunteered, but—that’s not really why I’m marrying him anymore. It started out that way, but—”

“But you care about him,” she finished softly.

“To say the least,” Alec murmured, turning his head to meet her eyes. “Like you said, that’s no surprise though, is it?”

She shook her head. “Really not. So what are the Seelies offering in return?”

"So far? Only that they'll consider a treaty." It all came spilling out, then: the treaty, the Brooklyn Shadow-World Council he'd proposed, the rightful skepticism of the Downworlders and his desperate desire to win their trust and prevent a war. These sorts of discussions were the one thing he sincerely regretted losing, with the end of his engagement to Lydia. They would have made an incredible team, running the Institute together, and he'd missed her input since she'd gone back to Idris.

Lydia glanced through the copy of the treaty he’d handed to her when he was done speaking, then set it down, her movements slow and careful, as if it might blow up in her hands.

The look she fixed on him was grave and urgent. “Alec, listen to me very carefully. You need to put this treaty on the ash heap and _bury it_ , do you hear me? You need to get rid of all the evidence that you proposed it, and if anyone asks you about it, you need to disavow all knowledge, especially as concerns your offer to secede from the Clave. Lucky for you, the Soul Sword is still missing so there’s no way to compel you to tell the truth about this. We can make it go away.”

“ _What_?" If her expression weren't so deadly earnest, he'd have assumed she was joking. "I know it's a risk, but I'm trying to stop a war here."

"When the Clave learns about your inquiries into Aldertree, they're going to launch an investigation, and you _cannot_ let them find this.”

Alec shot out of his chair, turning to face her. “They _should_ be investigating him. Lydia, you don’t know half of what he did before he delivered Valentine back to Idris—”

“ _Aldertree_ didn’t deliver Valentine to Idris.”

He froze. “Valentine never arrived?” he asked with dawning horror. “Why weren’t we notified?”

“Oh, last I knew, Valentine was locked up in the Gard. But Raj was the one who escorted him.”

“That’s impossible. Raj was injured while he was out fighting the Downworlders Valentine released to draw us out of the Institute. He was here in the infirmary for days. We could hear him complaining all the way up on the third floor.”

“Now you see why your email left me a little confused,” Lydia said grimly.

"If Aldertree didn't escort Valentine, and Raj didn't escort Valentine, then who the hell did? And where has Aldertree been?" Alec folded his arms over his chest.

Lydia rubbed her forehead for a moment, then met his eyes squarely. “ _That’s_ why there’s going to be an investigation. Aldertree was reported killed in action during Valentine’s attack on the City of Bones.”

“Reported by who?”

“You.” She gave him a moment to process that. “When the Clave investigates, Aldertree’s not the one they’re going to be looking at. Do you see where this is going, Alec?”

“The demon. When it had control of me, before it killed Jocelyn, it would have had access to my email and Institute communications to the Clave.” Alec closed his eyes, his mind racing. “But that doesn’t matter. A message could be forged, especially since it’s on record that I was temporarily not in control of my actions. There has to be surveillance footage of Aldertree around the Institute for weeks after Valentine’s attack on the City of Bones. Witnesses would have seen him leading the Rite of Mourning for Jocelyn and the Silent Brothers. Hell, people saw me arguing with him before Valentine attacked the Institute.”

“Are you sure that surveillance video exists?” Lydia asked, arching a brow. “Because most of those witnesses—”

“—Were killed in Valentine’s attack. By Madzie, a little warlock girl I’ve befriended, who purposefully refrained from killing me with the others. And who was escorted out of the Institute—and thus saved from falling into Clave custody—by the warlock I’m marrying. Who happens to be friends with Dot Rollins, the warlock who was captured by and working for Valentine.” Alec sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. “Oh, God. That video footage won’t be there. Whoever he is, he’ll have erased it. Except for the part where I killed Jocelyn, which will look like I was trying to clean up Valentine’s loose end before she could be recalled to Idris.”

“You have to relieve yourself from duty,” Lydia said firmly, crossing the room to stand before him. “Step down as Head of the Institute. Cooperate fully with any investigation. I’ll take over until the Clave decides who they want in charge.”

“Lydia, if I step down, the treaty I offered the Downworlders is worthless. They’ll think I tricked them and they won’t be willing to return to the negotiating table. We’ll be at war.”

“That can’t be your concern anymore. I will take over any negotiations that have to be handled.”

Alec laughed hopelessly, his eyes burning. “You almost had Meliorn tortured! They’re not going to trust you.”

“I’ll do everything I can to prevent a war, I promise.”

“Will you honor the treaty?” Her eyes slid away from his and her jaw clenched. Alec hung his head. “I take that as a no.”

“I can’t offer to secede from the Clave. The Brooklyn Shadow-World Council is a sound idea, and I’d be happy to use it as a starting position for negotiations with the Downworld factions. But that’s as much as I can offer.”

“Then you’re offering them nothing.” Alec ran his hand through his hair, resisting the urge to just grab a handful and yank in frustration. “If the Clave can just waltz in and declare the treaty null and void, what’s the point?”

“Maybe I can come up with something else.” Lydia spread her hands in a helpless shrug. “We don’t have to decide everything this very moment. Give me time to come up with a plan. Right now, our first concern has to be taking steps to protect _you_ , because someone has obviously gone to a great deal of trouble to set you up.”

“I-I-I can’t. I can’t do this right now. It’s my wedding day.” He winced at how ragged and plaintive his own voice sounded. “I need to go start getting ready.”

“Alec, without the treaty—” Lydia began, her voice too gentle for the killing blow she intended to deliver.

"Don't. Please, don't." Alec turned toward the door, because he couldn't bear for her to see his face at that moment. "Just let me get through today. We'll deal with the rest tomorrow."

* * *

Magnus’s stomach sank the moment he opened the door for Alec. Gone was the beaming young man who’d left his bed this morning. Alec seemed like the intervening hours had aged him a decade, and just holding himself upright was a painful effort.

“What’s wrong?”

Alec opened his mouth then shut it quickly, barging past Magnus into the apartment with an uncharacteristic lack of courtesy. Magnus shut the door gently and took a moment to lean his forehead against the thick wood panel. He closed his eyes and drew one deep, slow breath, and then another, before turning to face the inevitable.

“Well, I suppose if you’re going to call the wedding off I should…thank you for sparing me some humiliation by doing it before the actual ceremony this time.” He didn’t mean to sound quite so caustic, but it crept into his voice anyway.

“What?” Alec’s expression wasn’t so much startled as completely gut-shot. “No. Magnus, that’s not what I was—” His voice broke off, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The look in his eyes was so wounded and fearful that it made Magnus’s chest ache. His hands moved as he spoke, the gestures jerky and agitated. “I need to know something. If the treaty wasn’t something we had to consider, would you still want to marry me?”

“That’s…an interesting question.” Magnus tried to smile, but he couldn’t manage it. He felt like he had that day Alec told him about his engagement to Lydia. So close to the joy he sought and watching it slip from his grasp, unable to stop it. “Why would you ask that?”

“I just—I need to know. Would we still be getting married if not for the political situation?”

Magnus took a deep breath. “Of course not, Alexander.” Alec bent forward as though he’d taken a body blow, swallowing again with an audible gulp. Magnus extended a hand to him, and it _hurt_ , the way Alec recoiled. “But that isn’t to say—”

“You’ve said enough.” Alec kept backing away, his face stony.

“No, I haven’t, because you haven’t let me finish,” Magnus snapped. It wasn’t a tone he enjoyed using, especially when Alec was clearly already hurting, but at least he stopped retreating. “Two weeks ago, we hadn’t spoken to each other in months. As far as I knew, you wanted nothing to do with me. In fact, as far as I knew, you were still in the closet. How can you possibly expect any other answer when you ask me if we’d have gone from _that_ to marrying each other, in so little time, without the treaty influencing matters?”

Alec shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "I guess you're right. I guess I thought— _One_ thing. I thought I could have just one thing. Doesn’t matter now.”

“Alec, please. What is this about?”

“There isn’t going to be a treaty, Magnus. At least not one signed by me.” Alec met his shocked stare for a brief moment, then closed his eyes, tipping his head back. “Hell, I’ll be lucky if I don’t spend the rest of my life rotting in the City of Bones as one of Valentine’s accomplices or something.”

With hardly any inflection in his voice, Alec recapped his discussion with Lydia and the neatly laid trap he’d walked into.

“I was so busy trying to outthink the Seelies that I never even saw it,” he said hopelessly. “So…I guess you’re off the hook.”

“That isn’t fair,” Magnus protested.

“Oh really?” Alec scoffed, but his derision sailed past Magnus, now that he knew what was feeding it. “Since when did _fair_ become a variable in this equation?”

“Since you became so determined that you already know what the answers are, that you refuse to even ask the right questions.” Magnus stormed across the room until he was toe-to-toe with Alec. “Ask me if I’d _ever_ want to marry you, Alexander. If we’d had the time and opportunity to do it differently. Ask me that.”

“Would you?” he asked. Softly. Almost timidly. So much hope and hurt hanging on just two little words.

“Yes. Of course I would. I meant what I said this morning. I’m _happy_ to be marrying you today. Maybe it’s not taking place the way I would have preferred to have done it, with time for the two of us to date and get to know each other and build something we were sure of, but that doesn’t mean I’m not exactly where I want to be at this moment.” Magnus pursed his lips, reconsidering. “Actually, it does. Because really we should be getting dressed by now. I told your family to be here early, before other guests started arriving, and if we don’t hurry—”

Alec's hands closed on his shoulders, and Magnus found himself jerked into a crushing embrace. Startled, it took him a moment to wrap his arms around Alec, but when he did, he could feel Alec's body shaking with God only knew how much pent-up emotion. Alec's face was pressed into his shoulder, his breath warm and damp on Magnus's collar, and all Magnus could do to try to calm him was cling to Alec until Alec understood that he wouldn't trade this day for any other possible scenario.

“You mean it?” he whispered raggedly against Magnus’s neck.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Look,” Alec said when he finally drew away. “I don’t know how much time we’re going to have. I don’t know what the Clave is going to do, or what’s going to happen to me if I can’t find a way to convince them I’m innocent. But I want you to know I want this. And I-I know it’s too soon, but Magnus, I—I love you.”

It took Magnus a moment to make his voice work. He was too busy staring at Alec in complete wonder. He had to swallow the lump in his throat away before he replied, “I love you, too.”

Alec’s lips on his were firm and dry, the kiss not just passionate but utterly _necessary_. An act of survival, as vital as breath.

And afterward, Magnus simply held Alec as he sagged in Magnus’s arms.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Alec said into his shoulder after a long while. “Everything I worked for, it’s just going to be ruined. I thought I’d find a way to make things work despite the Clave’s lack of support, but I never stood a chance.”

Magnus pulled away enough to cup Alec’s face in both hands, thumbs caressing his cheekbones. “First things first. We get through this wedding. After that, we’ll decide on a plan. If the Clave intends to come after the husband of Magnus Bane, they’d better have more to go on than some conveniently missing surveillance footage and a few associations taken out of context.”

“This is the Clave we’re talking about,” Alec said wryly. “They’re pretty big on deciding what their narrative is and then tailoring the facts to fit it.”

“It’s a worry for another day. Today, just be happy with me.” Magnus released him reluctantly and turned away. “Now, we need to start getting ready. I can’t wait to see you in the suit I chose…”


	11. An Unexpected Guest

Magnus had put together an intimate reception before the ceremony to entertain the small gathering of guests who would be attending the ceremony itself, but not necessarily sticking around for the party afterward. With Magnus at his side, Alec greeted the slow procession of friends and family as they arrived. His mother entered, her spine straight and her chin high. Not, Alec suspected, from the indignity of attending her eldest son’s wedding to a Downworlder, but rather because of the man who entered beside her. Robert Lightwood, for his part, looked for all the world like someone who felt he had nothing to account for.

Alec gritted his teeth and focused on Max instead.

“Max!” The kid looked like he’d grown two inches since Alec had last seen him just a few months ago. “This is Magnus, the man I’m marrying. Magnus, my little brother, Max.”

“I’m glad you could come today, Max,” Magnus said with a warm smile. “I hear you received your first rune not long ago. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Max flicked a skeptical look at Alec. “Are you _really_ getting married? I mean, not like—”

"No, for real this time," Alec said, chuckling. He glanced up at Maryse quickly, then met Max's eyes. "And listen, I need you to do me a favor, okay? Pretty soon, a little girl named Madzie will be here. She's a few years younger than you, and she's really shy, and a bit afraid of Shadowhunters. She knows Magnus and me, but we're going to be pretty busy, and you're the closest to her age. Do you think you could be her friend, help her not be scared?"

Max nodded, and Maryse settled her hands on his shoulders. "I think we can both make sure Madzie feels safe," she said with a soft, reassuring look, and Alec gave her a grateful smile.

Robert caught his arm as he stood up again. “Alec, can I have a moment?”

“Sure.” He twitched his sleeve out of his father’s grasp and met Magnus’s eyes. “I’ll just be a minute?”

Magnus nodded and gave him an encouraging smile. Alec led Robert to a secluded corner and turned to face him, folding his arms across his chest.

“You wanted something?”

“Alec, I just need to make sure. Are you certain you know what you’re doing here? Marriage is—”

"Look, this isn't the time and place to get into it, so let's just settle one thing. You don't get to say one word to me about marriage. Not now, not ever." He stared coldly at his father until Robert closed his eyes. He didn't quite wince, but something about the way he held himself suddenly appeared smaller. At that moment, it occurred to Alec that he'd never seen his father clearly. He'd always seemed honorable and magnanimous. Because Robert doted on Izzy and was less exacting than Maryse, Alec had never looked too carefully at who he truly was.

The truth was, his affability was a veneer. His talk of honor dealt only with the shallowest definition of the word, balanced on deeds that would make one look good before an audience, not those that genuinely indicated a noble heart.

Robert and Maryse were both bigots. But Maryse, at least, was honest enough to admit to her bigotry and to consider that she might need to examine it. Robert was simply a hypocrite.

When his father gave him a tight nod of acknowledgment, Alec figured he’d gotten about as much as he could expect out of the discussion and returned to Magnus’s side as Lydia came through the door.

She greeted them with a sincere, if somewhat awkward, smile, which Magnus immediately took as an invitation to turn on the charm.

"Lydia, my dear, I'm so glad you could come. I was worried when I'd heard you were injured a few months ago, but clearly, your return to Idris has treated you well. You look absolutely stunning." He clasped her hand and bussed her cheek, and Lydia smiled warmly in return.

“As do you. Both of you.” Alec smiled and accepted her hug. She wasn’t wrong; Magnus had chosen their clothes brilliantly. Alec wasn’t sure what to call what he was wearing; it seemed too formal to be a suit but not quite formal enough to qualify as a tuxedo. It was the softest, sootiest black he’d ever seen, but the waistcoat and the pristine white shirt underneath both had accents embroidered in a gold thread so fine that it was nearly invisible except when it caught the light just right. A gold pocket square was the flashiest thing about it, and Alec had to admit he felt quite debonair.

Magnus was definitely flashier, in his burgundy velvet and streaked hair to match. His one nod to Shadowhunter wedding custom was gold eye makeup, which made him look softer than his usual dark eyeliner. It reminded Alec of the first time they'd had drinks together, after healing Luke, and he wondered if Magnus had been thinking of that occasion when he made the choice to go that route.

“I’m glad I could make it,” Lydia was saying as Alec peeled his eyes off Magnus and returned his attention to the conversation. Then she dropped her voice. “I’m just sorry I had to deliver such alarming news on your wedding day.”

“Not to worry.” Magnus stepped just a little closer to Alec, his hand resting between Alec’s shoulder blades. “Whatever comes, we’ll deal with it.”

A slow silence spread through the small crowd, starting near the door and moving outward in waves.

"Well, this is…unexpected," Magnus murmured beside Alec as the doors to his loft opened, and two Seelie guards in ceremonial gear stood aside to admit Meliorn, who had on his arm a beautiful, scarlet-haired woman who could only be—

Alec nearly choked. “You invited the Seelie queen?” he whispered urgently. “I thought the ceremony was only supposed to be for family and close friends.”

“Have you ever seen the beginning of _Sleeping Beauty_?” Magnus replied. “In the Downworld, you don’t host an important event without at least extending an invitation to the Queen of Faerie. She doesn’t tend to actually show up, though.”

“Have you met her?” Alec asked, his chest tightening with anxiety. “I’m not sure of the protocol here.”

Magnus patted his back reassuringly. “Be courteous and honest. I don’t think anyone knows for sure if she can actually read minds, but if you’re so perceptive—and/or have such an extensive spy network—that people have to debate whether you’re telepathic, does it really matter?”

“I guess not,” Alec muttered, and let Magnus steer him across the room. The eyes of the other guests, particularly his parents, were upon them

“Your Majesty.” Magnus didn’t bow, but the nod of his head was deep enough that he might as well have. “You grace us with your presence on this joyous day.”

“Yes, Magnus Bane, you do seem rather…ebullient on this occasion.” The _for a political alliance_ —and possibly _to a Shadowhunter_ —hung unspoken in the air.

Alec merely smiled. “We should thank you, Your Majesty. Without you, we wouldn’t be here today.”

“True.” She gave him a shrewd look, her lovely face barely moving as she pursed her lips. “You believe you’ve met our conditions?”

“I’m marrying a Downworlder I’ll be proud to stand beside as equals for the rest of my life. Weren’t those the terms?” He kept his eyes directly upon her, but he could feel Lydia and his parents, Jace, Izzy, even Clary, coming closer, taking in each word.

“And yet your treaty may be worthless before it’s even signed,” she said blithely. “All this could be for nothing.”

“ _Not_ for nothing," Alec replied, just barely preventing himself from snapping at her. "Whatever happens to me and whoever ends up running the Institute, I'll continue pushing to see the treaty signed and peace established."

Magnus hummed thoughtfully. “Isn’t it interesting, my Lady of Faerie, that the condition Alec had to meet happens to be something that would discredit him in the eyes of the Clave at a time when someone has already put a great deal of effort into framing him for something he didn’t do?”

“Doesn’t the treaty he has proposed already discredit him?” she asked calmly. “Alec Lightwood conceals much from his own people. Tell me, Child of Raziel, are your family and friends aware that it was not the demon’s wishes you carried out, but rather the demon who carried out yours?”

Behind him, Alec heard Clary gasp softly. He tightened his jaw. “They are now, Your Majesty. Perhaps you could answer a question for me, in turn. Are you allied with Valentine Morgenstern?”

For a moment, she looked almost delighted, but when he spoke Valentine's name, her expression shifted, as though Alec had disappointed her.

“No,” she said simply. “Felicitations on your nuptials. We will give your treaty due consideration.”

Everyone in the room seemed to release a collective breath when she swept out on Meliorn’s arm, apparently with no intention of actually attending the wedding. Alec bowed his head and closed his eyes, barely hearing as Magnus spoke quietly to him.

“You know she warps things, Alec. Just because she said—”

He couldn’t listen. All he could hear was Clary’s gasp, over and over.

“That could have gone worse,” Lydia murmured, joining them. “But it could have gone better, too. We’re going to need to do some damage control. She worded her statements in such a way that anyone who took them out of context could use them against you.”

“That was idiotic.” Alec dragged a hand down his face.

“What, asking her about Valentine?” Lydia shrugged. “Impolitic, maybe, but she can’t lie, and she didn’t even try to evade giving a direct answer, so at least now we know.”

“ _No_ ,” he snapped at her. “Me. I asked the wrong damn question. I should have asked if she was working with whoever took the Soul Sword.”

Magnus’s hand was on his back again, and Alec realized how rigid he was, nearly quivering with tension. The room seemed unbearably warm.

“I need some air,” he murmured, leaning close to Magnus’s ear. “I’ll be up on the roof for a few, okay?”

Magnus gave him a soft smile and nodded, and Alec took the tight spiral stairs up to the rooftop. He burst through the door with just seconds to spare before it seemed his heart would explode. Fresh air flooded his lungs. Under the open sky, he sank into one of the decorative chairs that had replaced the patio furniture and buried his face in his hands.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but when he heard the door open and narrow heels clicked on the slate tiles, he knew who was there.

“I didn’t want to kill her.” He hated how his voice shook. “I swear I didn’t.”

“I know.” Clary’s voice had a hitch in it, but it was as understanding as ever. That was the worst part of all of this; after all the unkind things he’d said to her, all the accusations and insults and belittling remarks, she had never for a moment spoken a word of blame when she discovered he’d ripped her mother’s heart out.

“What she said, about the demon carrying out my wishes—”

"Seelies can't lie, but they twist things around, or so everyone keeps telling me." Her voice took on a slightly sing-song cadence, like a kid parroting a lesson they'd heard dozens of times. He glanced up to see her nose was a little red at the edges, her eyes shimmering slightly. Her lips wobbled, but still, she mustered a smile. "You resented my mom. For trying to kill Jace. For almost getting you killed, which resulted in Jace being arrested. For me crash landing on all of you. You wanted her to go away and never come back, and me with her."

“Not anymore,” he said quickly, with an emphatic shake of his head. “But yes. At the time, yes.”

"In your position, I probably would have felt the same. God knows I resented her a bit for the mess we all found ourselves in." She smiled wryly. "You said to me once that I'd turned your whole world upside down. I have no idea what I could have done differently under the circumstances; I needed help, and you people were the only ones who knew what the hell was going on. So I guess if I had to do it again, I'd probably do the same thing. But it was hard on you. I get that."

“I-I get it, too. You had nowhere else to turn. I should have tried harder to understand that at the time. It’s just…for so long, it was just me, Jace, and Izzy, right? And that wasn’t just familiar, it was—it was _safe_ , you know? I, uh, I had secrets that I was keeping, an-and I never had to worry about them getting loose." She laid a hand on his arm, and he covered it with his own. "It's not just being gay, either. I mean, that was a big one, obviously, but also just the fact that I started questioning orders and my duty, questioning the direction that my parents had chosen for my life. All that came out. But that's a good thing. I mean, look where I am now."

She chuckled softly, her hand tightening on him. “You understand I’m never going to let you live down the fact that you owe it to me that you met your husband, right?”

Alec laughed, hanging his head. “That’s fair. I am sorry, Clary. Not just for Jocelyn, but for all of it. You were a…convenient target…for my frustration about a lot of things that actually didn’t have much to do with you. It shouldn’t have taken me as long as it has to apologize for that.”

“Apology accepted,” she said with a gentle smile.

Alec patted her hand and stood, turning his face up to the sky. He felt lighter. It turned out the real guilt he'd struggled with for months hadn't been Jocelyn's death, but the knowledge he'd left the door wide open for the demon by harboring so much anger toward her. Finally, that secret was out—if it had ever been a secret at all—and it was a relief.

“Sun’s almost down. We’ll be able to start the wedding soon.”

As he spoke, the door opened just a crack, and Magnus peered out. "Everything okay up here?"

“Yeah.” Despite everything weighing him down, it took no effort whatsoever to find a smile for Magnus. “Are we just about ready to begin?”

"Almost. Brother Zachariah has arrived, and Raphael will be here any moment, I'm sure. I thought we'd start letting people find their seats."

Alec took a moment to straighten his jacket and nodded. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll go down and let everyone know to start making their way up here,” Clary offered. She brushed Magnus’s arm as he murmured his thanks, then left. Only Alec and Magnus remained, there under the darkening sky, staring at each other from a few feet apart.

“Sorry for abandoning you down there.” Alec hung his head, suddenly bashful for no reason that made any sense.

Magnus shrugged, coming one step closer. Just one, as though Alec were Madzie or Mouse, prone to shrink away or run if he approached too aggressively. “I believe we actually agreed that you’d have somewhere to retreat to tonight, if you needed it.”

“I guess I just didn’t expect to need it so early.”

“You should know that Maryse and Robert were very confused and concerned by all this talk of treaties and being discredited with the Clave and whatnot. One might think they had no idea what was going on.” He took another pace forward, a little more sure of himself this time.

"Hm. Last I checked, they weren't running the Institute anymore." Alec snorted. "I might not be, either, so I guess I'll let Lydia explain things if she decides to involve them at all."

Magnus gave his little _yes, but…_ shrug. “There may have been talk of a meeting tomorrow to bring everyone up to date.”

"They can knock themselves out. I won't be there." Alec smirked as Magnus's brows shot up. "Weren't you the one demanding twenty-four hours, minimum?"

The way Magnus beamed as Alec closed the distance between them made it all worthwhile, even all the worry and uncertainty they had yet to face. Alec couldn’t delude himself that if the Clave came after him, _truly_ came after him, it wouldn’t get ugly. But that didn’t seem to matter, not if he could still put that gentle, surprised smile on Magnus’s face.

Magnus’s hands settled on his shoulders, and Alec took a deep breath, laying his hands on Magnus’s waist. “The Seelies were never going to sign the treaty. Were they?”

“No. But we had to try,” Magnus said with a small sigh.

“We did.” He closed his eyes and pulled Magnus a little closer, nuzzling his temple, breathing in all the scents of him. “And I meant what I said.” He pulled away just enough to meet Magnus’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter if I lose my career or what the Clave does, or if we end up at war anyway. It’s not for nothing. Even if this—us—is all that ever comes out of it. It’s worth it.”

Magnus kissed him, then, a hard, passionate kiss full of affirmation. Alec was shaking by the time they parted, and only then did he become aware that they were no longer alone. Everyone seemed to hover between awkward and amused, except for his father, who looked genuinely uncomfortable, and his mother, whose face reflected an astonished, revelatory mixture of emotions too confused to untangle in a single glance.

“Well,” Magnus said briskly, stepping back. “I suppose that was a little premature. Please, everyone, be seated. Thank you for coming tonight. Alexander?”

“Yeah?” Alec blinked and pulled his gaze away from Maryse.

“Shall we get married?” he asked with a puckish lift of his eyebrow.

Alec couldn’t help but grin in return. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was pretty much winging it with my writing of the Seelie queen and her related lore. I didn't pay much attention to her stuff when I read the books (honestly I was mostly just skimming for Malec content) so I just went with what felt right to me. (And since this was written before season 2B, the Seelie Queen as she's seen on the show wasn't something I could really consider when writing her.) Sorry if I got anything wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Tumblr](http://maleccrazedauthor.tumblr.com), I love to dish Shadowhunters!


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